Snow Days and Tomorrows

I was staring at my kids
Through a slowly growing hole in the ice on the windshield
Whose receding I was facilitating
However haphazardly
Pain beginning to radiate inwards
From my fingertips
When the windshield wiper buckled
Leaving half of it dangling like the broken wing of a bird
Cowering in anticipation of the words of some distinguished gentleman
With a British accent
Proclaiming that the end had come and
Indeed there was little doubt that the end had come
That
The
Snow
Day
Was
Over