Friday, December 4, 2009


they're calling me by name
we're on the playground
it's recess
swings, tether balls, monkey bars, & jungle gym
snow is falling
i look up to the sky
it feels like a privilege
that i can be there to witness
it falls in my upturned hands
it's cold in my open mouth
like dancing in the rain
i'm overjoyed
getting excited about something i used to hate
they go on playing
continue like it's nothing
i see inches of snow piled beneath their feet
they go on their business
snow crunching below
to the rhythm of the children's jumping and chanting
to the beat of a jump rope rhyme

in the bathroom after the shower
towel wrapped
talking or waiting for a message
there were pieces of frayed white towel lint
scattered on the floor like snowflakes
packing them into a pseudo snowball
before throwing them all away

she imagines the dark, navy, night
inky blue, purple amethyst, magenta, slate grey, all the colors in the mountains
in the distance, she sees them, in the distance, right there. in front of her
white snowflakes falling, sparkling, reflecting, colors of rainbow
remember in the morning? the untouched fallen snow. remember the crisp, chill air?

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