Woke up to snow
which didn’t trigger thoughts
of how pretty or cold
but an urgency to see it
with the scrubbed eyes of a child
who’s never seen snow at all.
Does he think the stars dropped
from the sky
smashing on the grass
in a million sparkly pieces?
Or that the streets
hatched a bed of flowers,
thick and white?
Or maybe a nice lady
stayed up all night
scattering mints
on lawn chairs and twigs?
My son didn’t ask
if the snow stole colour for good
or how it stacks
like a circus trick
three inches high on a leaf.
He just asked for his boots
and walked outside,
looking backwards the whole time,
giggling at the footsteps
he left behind.