STORM FORECAST moss light under trees the gray anxious waiting my joints heat themselves work on the highway stops squirrels return to the hollows in the trees a motion of air flickers like a heart racing a leaf edge stands up from where it lies on the ground the drawn out end of winter stretches across the first days of spring a letter from a beast says the forests are snowful and we have found it overcomes you whether you are strong or not we will all be muffled in the same white soon whatever has passed between us before I assure you is now forgot when the storm is done we will all be comrades in scratching our way out meanwhile I wait and while waiting I send this forewarning