Super Swampers and Snow

Super Swampers and Snow

Snow lightly drifts and I am everywhere.
It crashes into bright beams of headlights
faster than I can follow, yet the windshield is clean.  Newton's law is wrong here.

A blanket of innocence yawns sleepinly in front.  Behind
I drive on, making my own impression on innocence.

Deafening crisp silence crashes into open windows.
Snowflakes slide their own silent symphony.

I stop and walk at random times.  Landings and wide spots guide my Odyssey. 
Snowflakes meet skin and melt.  Brown boots crush
white fluff.  Life exists 3000 feet below, evidenced by lights.  The air is so
cold the lights shimmer and twinkle, looking like far off stars.
My life leads off in pure, unbroken puffs of cotton.

I build a fire; I am not cold.
I build to accomplish, to create, to overcome.
Physics of wet wood, snow, and cold fight
the psychology of desire, determination, and dedication.
Tiny chemical reactions boo and hiss my accomplishment.
I build, to misquote, because it wasn't there.

Light radiates out to the road ahead and behind, illuminating decision time.  Ahead
waits with unbroken whiteness.  Behind
the road is stained with brown, muddy responsibility splashed
wildly outside the ruts.

The engine groans- yellow lights fall on pure, white snow