Right after I decided to share this poem, I realized it might raise an eyebrow to post a poem about snow as we’re heading into summer temperatures 🤨 But maybe this will help someone stay psychologically cool 😁 “Snow at Grandma’s” was part of my first book of poems, The Wind and the Shadows.
Snow at Grandma’s
Pulling into Grandma’s driveway
I am amazed
by how much snow is in her yard.
There was always a lot of snow here—
snow we piled in heaps,
threw at each other,
tunneled through,
made into snowmen;
snow we played in until we
couldn’t feel our hands or faces.
It was magical, all that snow.
It was the way
life was supposed to be,
not bare and damp
like the milder winters
at our house.
Gathering my things from the car,
I think about my visit with her
at the adult family home.
It was kind of my uncle
to open her home to my family and me
while we visited.
I cross the yard.
The snow lays like thick velvet
over the face of the world.
It is perfect.
It is white, and cold,
and completely untouched
except for one set of large footprints
and the shoveled walkways.
A Wandering Minstrel 