Remembered Winter

Folder: 
Vintage Words

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The snow shovel always got me

in the shin or under the arm pit.

I was so little, but determined.

I don't think anyone ever

notices the steps cleared, the slate

sidewalk of aqua stone showing

between the lilac bushes bare

as a newborn, past the hedges

to the street. No one ever

saw or said thank you.

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In winter with white everywhere

and the clear cold night sky splattered

with stars and a full moon hanging

in the window for young eyes

to absorb the wonder, I remember

mittens and the Christmas program

and ice skates and the smell

of sausages and eggs on morning

platters.

.

allets

12-04-13

10:33p

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