Self-Portrait in the Time of Disaster

All morning my daughter pleading, outside

outside. By noon I kneel to button her

coat, tie the scarf to keep her hood in place.

This is her first snow so she strains against

the ritual, spooked silent then whining,

restless under each buffeting layer,

uncertain how to settle into this

leashing. I manage at last to tunnel

her hands into mittens and she barks and

won’t stop barking, her hands suddenly paws.

She’s reduced to another state, barking

all day in these restraints. For days after

she howls into her hands, the only way

she knows now to tell me how she wants out.