only forty-five minutes

transformed grass into white

familiar into an alien land

feet freezing in only leather flats

wandering in a pristine wastland

car half-buried upon finding

rely on remembered landscape

not claustrophic yet, there may

still be a ways out and paths home

slide on a curve, too silent

until music begins pounding

reminders of humanity outside

this scary yet exhilarating world

slopes too steep, crushing realization

home is the other unreachable direction

what once was a highway is now

imagination of blizzard-blind eyes

slip in through a gap, visualize

the river's edge, the rail's end

solely existing not to fall in

ghost town awaits, with answered prayer

despite being the last to arrive

they are still waiting amidst flying snow

with thankful heart I am at long last home