top of page

C.N.P Poetry 

  • Writer's pictureCathexis Northwest Press

Prelude to a Blizzard

By: Anthony Clemons

Blizzardous squalls appear

on the break of Fall’s horizon.

Gusts of disorder surround us.

I’ve listed what’s needed—

No trifles, just essentials—

For the looming hours

of howling rage.

The streets are all empty.

It’s six o’clock—

A time of inversion

For the prairie village.

No children play outside as

Stillness replaces the cadence

Of early evening sounds.

The sun breaks off

Into the visible horizon.

Minor light retreats

With eastward shadows

Covering yellowed zoysia.

The cold fronts its intent

hazing the distance

a dusky concert of blindness.

The haunting unconsciousness

Of an empty farm town

Besieged by ethereal scents

of deadened moisture

Is a cue to outrun the northern

Religion of season’s end.

But the streets are all empty.

The shops are all closed.

And the placid town is taken.


Anthony Clemons is an Appalachian writer and poet. He holds an M.F.A. in Nonfiction Writing from Goucher College and degrees in education from Columbia University. His words appear in Harvard Review, Hippocampus Magazine, The Daily Drunk, Northern Appalachian Review, Silver Rose Magazine, and elsewhere. You can follow him on Twitter and IG @anthonycclemons.


bottom of page