warning

I'd left the high school parking lot just in time--before it really began to snow. A dusting lines the road but my wipers scrape from lack of moisture. Nothing, really.

I drive down Randall Road to the stop sign and see the car stopped at a forty-five degree angle at the end of the hill, see the girls in navy-and-gold sweatshirts looking at me. I wonder.

Now the back of my car fishtails left. Now in the middle of North Country. Now I break and know it won't do any good, steer and look both ways -- nobody approaches. Now I straighten to dead-on to the guardrail, now the car fishtails left again and glides gracefully to a pause.

I think two things as I drive away (slowly) and those stuck on the hill watch. I must have an angel on my side, a reason I've been left alive today and other times. A purpose yet to serve.

And if so, I'd better get home and start writing.