It's Time

IT’S TIME come with me take my hand I promise it won’t hurt a bit dress up warm like Mom used to say mufflers, knitted hats with kittens ears snow pants and mittens on strings, ‘cause you were always losing them, scratchy woolen socks, grandma knitted toques and black rubber galoshes with clicky fasteners now that we can’t move roll out the Saturday back door land in snow, as white as a Sunday shirt not a mark not even squirrel prints under the trees. we are the first! you remember? dig deep into your memories feel the freedom; early morning, the whole day laid out before pristine, untouched…ours. the first snowball… gather it, pack it, but not too slow you want it to be the first off on the street. Quick make more, a pile, then with the cunning of a great hunter stalk the kid next door silently don’t mind the crunch. just when he is in your sites “fire” let loose a barrage so great he’ll never know what hit him. Do you remember the exhilaration. the feel of the frosted air as it swept into your lungs. the taste of the first snow. rolling in it, tumbling over the hill looking like polar cubs as you troop in for lunch. hot tomato soup in mugs soda crackers and a test batch of Christmas cookies; ginger bread people. While your snow suits steam quietly on a rack near the stove Oh come with me, come with me take my hand be a child again it costs nothing yet gives you everything.