for my father in ICU
before this day has been written
It's early morning the day before Thanksgiving. There came about 8 more inches of snow overnight. There's almost an expectant hush, like something more than dawn lies over the horizon. Although there's no moon, it's luminous. Starlight shimmers off the heavy drifts, painting broad glowing brushstrokes over sleeping yards. Each bared branch and branchlet draped in layers, white satin evening wraps about to slip off shoulde...