A storm rages
in the middle of
Michigan, a little more
than two hours from
where she lives. It's
just after midnight,
and they sit at the table
playing Euchre, all of her
relatives stealing glances
at the window and
imagining their own kind
of Spring. I think of how
strong she is and make
her promise to be safe,
not heroic. From two
thousand miles away,
I feel her hesitate, but then
breathe more easily
when she tells me
she will not know
if traveling is safe
until the next day's
traffic report.
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