A glaring sun
on a frozen day
has a way
of making a man think
things might be better
than they seem:
all that light
and such fine brightness
viewed through a window
seems to invite
a bit of wandering.

An hour of blading snow
into big windrows
along either side
of a sloping driveway, though,
can set him straight soon enough.

Something about
sitting on the open seat
of a small tractor
in a minus-thirty wind chill
will make him remember
that this is December
no matter
how bright the sun is shining.

Make him grateful, too,
for thick clothes,
insulated boots and gloves,
and for all things
that do what they’re supposed to do
even on a day like this.
And glad, too,
that the driveway isn’t
two feet wider
and a hundred feet longer.

Even stinging fingers
and an aching face
can find reason for gratitude
in a season like this
when the warmth of walls
is as welcoming as a kiss,
reassuring
as the hope of spring.

H. Arnett
1/3/18