Life Again
We are stamping in snow,
shouting at chilly air
amid scant remaining
patches of green.
I’m living life all over again
with my little boy—
as he lays himself in the snow,
belly-down like a puppy
or contented sphinx.
He hides behind trees,
laughs and throws snow.
Now he catches snow with his tongue,
tells me with his eyes
how excited he is.
The glass door of the house winks at us.
Vapor streams above in a trail.
The neighbor’s crow speaks to us
and a puff of chimney smoke announces
the encroaching end to yet another day
in this new season
on earth.
Heather Sager
Heather Sager is an author of poetry and short fiction. Her recent writing appears in Mantis, Alba: A Journal of Short Poetry, Nightingale & Sparrow, Sweet Tree Review, Little Patuxent Review, The Cabinet of Heed, Umbrella Factory Magazine, The Brasilia Review, New World Writing, and CircleShow. Heather grew up in rural Minnesota and lives in Illinois.
Tags:
Poetry
Love that last sentence.
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