Early Dismissal

“Keep the wipers up,” he says – I do –
and yet the ice still collects to glaze
my windshield, later my mittens glue.
Standing wipers visible through the window’s haze,
he calls to remind me warmly that
this sleet will soon change to snow.
“Remember to wear your hat,”
he repeats, as I interrupt – I know.
Into the icy drive – “Don’t hit the wall,”
I imagine he says – I veer left,
my glistening mittens and the sprawl
of frost ahead. Smugly deft,
I brake, just as the garage door appears,
alight skidding indoors for tea, though I’d rather a beer.