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Poem

Decked out and wearing slippers
Driveway ten miles high or so it seems
Icy and unrelenting
Why does my David think
we can make it through the moss?
We climb the cliffs or so it seems

Two sons, well a son and his friend,
see me almost meet my end
They’ve been staring out the pane
Are they teens at all?

I slip as if drunk ~
a winterwork’s wipeout

‘Fore I can blink
I’ve been set upright
betwixt the stately oaks,
carried into the comforting arms
of home

Sons are born, some come as a friend —
together they save a mother
from death’s humiliation and shudder

I think my David made it inside
He must have ‘cause he is by my side

The next uproar is our hearty laugh
as our car sits lonely at the bottom
awaiting tomorrow’s thaw

Things look prettier
behind the pane

and once again these young men
morph into teens
hiding in their cave

Like fairies at midnight,
no one believes they exist
to save you, reset your timeline

Boys grow up to be men
sometimes it shows
‘fore their time

and love grows for two sons -
one will stay,
the other’s the equivalent 
of one snowflake ~
worth a dendritic cent,
a collectible

10/26/2020

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