Despite the sliver of cowardice and dread
that pokes up from my memory of snow’s
dangers and cold, the child in me wins out.
“Look!” she shouts, all excited and glad,
“It’s snowing!” She tells me what to do.
You zip up your jacket and tie the hood,
and pull on your boots and your mittens.
See? Then you just dash out the door.
You hold up your arms, throw back your head,
stick out your tongue and taste the cold.
Then you twirl and twirl and dance.
You just twirl and twirl and dance.