Praying Hard For Snow Days
I was born in the hearth of the snowbelt.
Knee-deep winters, icy face slivers.
Hot chocolate and pond hockey
, a long driveway with a small coal shovel
Pegging cars with snowballs
Holding tight to car bumpers down icy lanes.
Long slogs toward a blizzard called middle school.
A slow learner always prays harder for snow days.
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