In all my years I never saw
another thing like that storm.
When it came it felt as if
an enormous fist had struck
the house. Snow fine as flour
sifted in under the eaves
and piled along the walls.
Our youngest, Jim, was at school
on a place two miles above,
and we were worried sick
for fear he’d try to get home
and be lost. You couldn’t see
your hand at the end of your arm
out in it. My husband led
one of the horses up the lane
but had to turn back. The snow
had frozen the horse’s eyes.
Halvor was just drying out
by the stove when we heard
a knocking out on the porch,
and there stood Jimmy’s pony,
covered with ice and snow,
with a bag on her halter, 
and in it a note which said
“Your boy is safe at the school.”