Whiteout – a poem by Laurie Didesch

Whiteout

The gray sky stretches endlessly like a convoy, and yet, the birdsong 
is boisterous this morning, as if the crocuses were in bloom. Instead, 
bands of snow close ranks. They form a wall—I walk through it like 
a ghost. So too the spirit travels unfettered in this world. The large 
flakes coat my lashes. They form epaulettes on my shoulders. The
lively warbler continues her refrain. The sun peeks above the clouds

to marvel at the sound before returning to beaches where the bathers 
sigh in relief. They rub on oil. Here, the performer insists on a spring 
that is yet months away. The New Year countdown was only yesterday. 
Suddenly, the bird vanishes into the whiteness. A glow like a lantern 
bobs up ahead: Is it a porch light or a street light or the bird in flight? 
Who can tell on such a day? My own heart rustles like a pair of wings. 

The poetry of Laurie Didesch appears or is forthcoming in Ibbetson Street, The Comstock Review, The MacGuffin, California Quarterly, Rambunctious Review, Third Wednesday, Young Ravens Literary Review, The Ravens Perch, Stone Poetry Quarterly, Adanna Journal, The Rockford Review, Westward Quarterly, Bronze Bird Review, The Awakenings Review, and more. Her work also appears in anthologies on Memory and Writing, among others. Her awards include being chosen to attend a juried workshop given by Marge Piercy. Laurie lives with her husband Alan and their three cats in Illinois. She is currently working on her first book.