1.
Whose hand
was I was trying to hold
when school closed
for the first time
in our lives?

Snow piling high above cars
on which kids played
king of the mountain

Everything
as possible as
a unique flake of snow
mattering

Sometimes when it snows
it could be then again

Magic slipping from the sky
safety just being
a small speck of snow

2.
Is life meant to labor
from here to there?
Or to accept
we are merely
momentary?

3.
Last night at dinner
my mother tells me she is retiring
This is her last
project

Like a rosary she says
I know this is just a grain of sand

She means herself
and I should have corrected her

4.
Today it snows
swirling and settling softly

I envy the easy going snowflakes

Unconcerned
how others see them
on the way down