Last snowflakes melted this weekend. Time has moved to spring.
I remember one snowy day, stabbing cold fingers, music accompanying my photo delight,
couchy snowdrifts and tiny cling on ice balls in dog fur.
I played with how I see.
Do I focus on the flakes and watch each in sharp relief?
Do I look beyond them and feel them blur into me, like an ever washing tide?
I am woozy in the blanket swirl, reminded of a baby curl cowlick…
I poke my nose outside and smell as they touch the ground,
each making way for the other, each changed by the next and the one before.
I remember more as I see the photographs…
laughter, blue snow light and a neatly hurled snowball in my lens.