The first snow a surprise, much earlier than expected. There were no phone calls telling of closed schools – you retired this year. There were no delighted squeals or racing feet above our heads. The boy’s long grown, our daughter recently in college. The first snow came quietly, and the solitude stayed. The only footprints, mine and that of the devil raccoon, back to steal another suet feeder. My garden blossoms dusted in white and ice. I cut a rose and bring it in for the breakfast table. Our love not yet grown cold.
wighted heads tipped