There were snows before I can remember, 
famous snows that buried sheep alive, 
Florida snows settling like pollen into orange blossoms, 
and the first snow, a blizzard 
drifting against the locked gate of Eden. 

Afterward it was Eve who made 
the first snowman, her second sin, and she laughed 
as she rolled up the wet white carpet 
and lifted the wee head into place. 
“And God causeth the sun to melt her labors, 
for He was a jealous God.” 

This time of year we count our summer blessings: 
a series of disasters that passed south of us. 
We walk the trails we’ll soon be skiing; 
you take my hand and tuck the knot they make 
into your coat pocket. Each breath 
is a little cloud capable of a single snowflake.