Waiting for ice

The ice cometh.  The chance is one hundred percent (they say), as if anything is ever one hundred percent.  I am home with the cat.  My beloved has gone out to pick up our daughter from a church gathering in another community.  They are ending early... due to the ice.  The prediction is one hundred percent possibility of ice.  As if anything is ever one hundred percent.  I am home with the cat in my lap.

I wait for ice.

It draws the lines

For the morning decision

To attend the middle service,

Look for salt trucks

All the way home,

Eat breakfast,

Read the paper

With the cat

Changing laps at feline whim.

I wait for ice

Peruse the ailing ash tree

In back,

The downy woodpecker

On the potentially dying branch

Pecking.

I wait for ice

In the warmth of home

And cat,

A kitchen almost done.

I wait for ice.

I pray it will not come

Until all are home and safe again.

Until all are safe indoors

Taking turns

With the warmth and weight,

The sheer cat presence.

Home.

Waiting for ice.