And Then There Was Light

And Then There Was Light

Just before Christmas, our small town in Southern Vermont was the center of a magical and destructive ice storm leaving us without power for seven days.

By the sixth day, I hit ROCK bottom and packed up my family up for a hotel–twenty minutes away.  There we reveled in electric lighting, showers–and most of all–flushing toilets.  This poem was written in a moment of delirium when we arrived back at our home the following day.

And Then There Was Light

And on the seventh day we rose

from the comfort of the HOLIDAY Inn

and climbed back to the heights of Marlboro

And there at the mouth of our road

we came upon men of GOOD will,

wearing hard hats beneath BRIGHT trucks.

And our mouths fell silent

of the PRAISE we had intended to spread

upon this long-awaited sight

And they hung there open

as we ascended MacArthur

SEEKING at each crossing

the familiar toppled tree or strewn line

only to discover…


And with great ANTICIPATION,

we turned up our drive,

scanning our home

for any SIGN,

And stepping into our mudroom

giddily flipped the switch,

only to find…


But just as we wearily lifted our bags

up the dark and dirtied stairs,

an unusual sound was heard.

And we looked at each other


And then turned toward the stove to SEE

great NUMBERS flashing

and exclaimed in bewildered WONDER



And without flushing toilets

or filling refrigerators

or washing mounds of dishes,

We flew to the porch

with pots and pans

to send out our JOYFUL wishes.

We whistled and whooped

and rang out GREAT JOY

To the gentlemen of CVPS

and all other electric crews NATIONS.

Who knew that a week before Christmas

could bring such GLEE

as we turned on the carols

and welcomed

each LIGHT

on the tree.

Kelly Salasin, 2008

To read Kelly’s posts about the Ice Storm of 2008, before the glee, click the links below:

Cat Scan 3:00 a.m.

Survivor Sours