nothing says revenge like the stillness of snow

I have had an absolutely lovely day in the sun by the pool and on the beach, so it only seems appropriate to post a poem about snow, right? Right. This was an Academy of American Poets poem-a-day in January, and I loved it so much that I actually tweeted about it at the time, but I also saved it for April. Not all April poems are spring poems.

This morning the snow
lowered so slowly, I was able
to lift my son—still in pajamas—
and show him each delicate
tendril of frost, the arctic structure
of a solitary flake. I was able
to make coffee and think only
of making coffee, a sensation
so sudden and dangerous
in its delight, I had to dilute it
by burning the toast. This morning
I breathed deeply, clicked on
the television and watched—
for a moment—a Boeing VC-25 fade
over our capital and dwindle
from sight. Nothing says revenge
like dwindle from sight. Later,
I’ll hear the new president pledge
to be better, try a bit harder.
I will try to believe him
the way a child believes a father
in an overcoat, by the door.
But for now, all is quiet.
My coffee tastes delicious,
and nothing says revenge like
the stillness of snow.

—Jared Harél, "January 20, 2021," originally published as the poem-a-day on January 20, 2022.