what if snowflakes are drifting spirits?
through the thick snow, i recognized you
driving along thick ice and tamped down snow,
passing horses and a stray grey cat,
i slow down at an expanse of farmland,
roll my window down, as the music hums softly in the background,
and take a big, cold breath of a Pennsylvania morning in February
winter whispers his name,
and he does not fail to answer
Where do the snowflakes go
when the wind dies down
and the days warm up?
Sleep well little snowflakes.
Reaching and resilient,
you stand your ground
while carrying a cold weight
and bearing a heavy burden.
I walked in the snow with the pup at my side.
Running my hand across the gate impulsively,
I licked the snow on my knitted mitten–
surprised to recognize the distinctive
yarny taste of winter.