iced raspberry canes
The snow keeps falling, muffling footsteps, distant trains, even the barking neighborhood dogs.
flake, flake, flake, flake, flake – there goes the rock garden wall, the hollowed-out gourd on its side along the path, the old bones of rosemary and thyme – gone, gone, gone.
Spring snow is an easy houseguest, sweeping in and out with enthusiastic grace, pretending not to notice the budded-out willows, the lingering dusk, the cardinal’s piercing new song.
Happy to see you. Happy to see you go.