The power lines are down. We’re in the dark,
the victims of a wet, cement-like snow.
I’m pleading with my generator, “Spark!”—
its stubborn answer up to now is “No.”
I’m clumsy with small engines, and I’m slow.
My neighbors, naturally, have done it right.
Their generators thrum; their windows glow.
They’ve joined the worthy in the hum of light.

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