The Blizzard

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A dead man lies asleep,

Upon a bed of white,

Swirling at the window

Is a blizzard calm and light.

—ALEXANDER BLOK

“You have to understand, I simply must keep going!” Platon Ilich exclaimed angrily. “There are people waiting for me! They are sick. There’s an epidemic! Don’t you understand?!”

The stationmaster clenched his fists against his badger-fur vest, and leaned forward:

“Well now, whaddya mean, we don’t understand? ’Course we do. You don’t wanna stop, ’course I understand. But I don’t got horses and ain’t gonna get none till tomorrow!”

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