We tend to be giddy,
recalling snow as a kiddie
over our heads in drifts.
We remember it fondly…
the frozen mittens and scarves,
awkward in snowsuits,
red nose, rosy cheeks….so cold
that the fingers refused to move.
Our plaintive pleas echo across the ages:
“I’m not cold, Mama!
Please let me stay out!”
The pristine snow cover
was calling our presence,
to leave our impression forever.
Many years later–new snow has the power
to bring back the wonder and thrill
of the magic snows…back when we were little.
But the nostalgia soon passes
as mist clouds our eye glasses…
and we remember that our bones are brittle.