Snow Day
On nostalgia...
SNOW DAY
I love a good snow. Like the one
in '96, barely four, waist deep
in a snow drift, neon green snow suit
peeking out from between the white
like a flower in spring. My father
grunting while he shovels, already
showing his age, pausing between
lifts to survey the road, seeking some
unspoken future: his son. Back bent.
Huddled over a pile of fresh powder
and his grandson, buried in a snow suit—
two men against the world