When You Smile at the Falling Snow
When you smile at the falling snow,
You're likely remembering joy and beauty,
Experienced over a lifetime.
From the very first time your parents,
Bundled you up with layers of long underwear;
Woolen trousers and several pairs of socks;
Oversized sweater over a turtleneck;
All crammed inside that impossibly small snowsuit.
You remember that first misshaped snowman,
Mixed with dirt and grass, and snot;
More brown than the white ground surrounding it,
Well-dressed in Mother's good scarf you borrowed
And perfectly natty in Father's old cap.
There's hastily erected snow fort on the front lawn,
Fully fortified with a neat pile of perfect snowballs,
Smoothed over by stiffening, soaked mittens,
Too precious, maybe too deadly to actually throw.
The fort is everything; only room for friends, and you.
Was there ever a truly safe hill for sledding?
One without the sharp drop into the half-frozen creek?
A sledding hill without that fence at the end,
Or that busy street with cars whizzing by past the curb,
Threatening to drown, decapitate, or drive over you?
Soaked to the bone, soaked through seven solid layers,
Stubbornly ignoring frostbitten feet and swollen hands,
Struggling with your sled back up to the top of the hill,
Standing in line behind the big kids, you spot your sister,
Shivering from the cold; you're suddenly shivering, too.
I was able to recreate all of that winter magic, as an adult;
My own sons, layered and stuffed into impossibly small snowsuits.
We made our own dirty snowmen; sturdy snow forts;
And sledded down unsafe hills; scraping swollen knuckles;
Stubbornly shivering as we stayed too long.
It's snowing, and there's a family of deer in my suburban yard,
Taking refuge on the softer land, ground deliberately layered
With the trees' insulating debris and evergreen ground cover.
There's spirit here; they know it's safe from predators,
A perfect place to digest their food and nibble a bit more.
They startle when I open the door to scatter birdseed,
Standing perfectly still, once more, when they hear my voice,
Softly reassuring them there's no reason to run away.
They're covered with snow, and one is trying to lick it off of the other.
The snow is falling fast, and I'm smiling again.
= new reply since forum marked as read
but I'm smiling at a beautiful sunset coming down on a lovely cool afternoon here in Jamaica - windows open 
When I smile at the falling snow,
I'm considering the joy and beauty
So fortunate to experience after waiting half a century.
