A blackbird settled in the front yard—
whether for warmth
or to hide from what was coming,
no one could tell.

The century blizzard arrived, again.

Over sixty miles an hour—
snowflakes flung like sparks
from a high-voltage line,
hissing across the white.

Everywhere, six feet deep.

In Maine, through Bean City,
through the Big Apple,
even restless Long Island,
Merrick,
Central Park, then Tenafly —

a century’s story
since the Perfect Storm,
and still we watch
only from windows,
from the inward rooms of ourselves.

Outside—
blackbirds and bears, snow fighters and skiers
at play
or searching for what will keep them alive.

When nature tilts her balance—
pressure leaning into cold—
the story begins again,

made new.

It rises from the deep Atlantic Ocean, just off the shore.

Delight and disaster shared alike,
until all becomes one:

no hierarchy, no kings,
no servants, no slaves—
only creatures beneath the covered world,
one hush under storm,
one fragile piece of life.

No more distance.

Already—
oneness.

Beneath six feet of snow,
no storm remains.

– TaeHun Yoon, 2/23/2026