The Valentine
Thigh deep in snowdrifts
the mailbox seems a mile away.
I risk frostbite and possible gangrene
for a message of love and spring.
Nothing from Hallmark today.
No American Greetings with
its signature rose, no envelopes
stickered with lopsided hearts,
only a bill from the heating company
showing a sizable credit and zero to pay,
a valentine from an anonymous donor.
I limp back to the house
and shake the snow off my pants,
do a happy dance, crank up the thermostat
and Vivaldi’s “Spring” on classical radio.
By Lisa Lindsey
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