Light snow.
\nBranches and twigs laced in white.
\nI am the same.
\nTime has not changed me.
\nI feel the flame of frost
\non my cheeks.
\nI am not forgotten.
\nI am not going away.<\/p>\n
The world is not dying.
\nMy mother is asleep as my father
\nmakes tea.
\nMy twin brother is next to me.
\nMy children rush out the door.
\nMy grandsons wrestle in the snow
\nwhile I watch a pillar of ice.<\/p>\n
Everything continues.
\nCatherine chats with her neighbor
\nwhile her sister is at the window
\nlooking at the light.
\nA Harris falcon lifts the zenith
\nabove me.
\nMary plays the piano.
\nI am parallel to everything about me.
\nGod is a little boy coming to me
\nsnowball in hand.
\nHis eyes are stars covered by rain.
\nHe runs away to play with the
\nother children.<\/p>\n
I am Antarctic shedding glaciers.
\nA penguin in formal dress.
\nI laugh.
\nI will cry later in bed,
\na seed wanting to germinate,
\nwhatever I want to be.
\nRight now looking past the trees,
\nholding someone\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Light snow. Branches and twigs laced in white. I am the same. Time has not changed me. I feel the flame of frost on my…<\/p>\n