i come


marking my way with prints

(they break through the crusty snow to the ice that hides beneath)

the heartbeat that i bring

rises as the distance lessens

between where i began and where she awaits

at the edge.

she grumbles to me about the pain in her thighs

moans that the children,

rowdy and rambunctious,

threw snowballs at her

then commands me to sweep them off;

i do as she bids

sweeping the frozen forms

off her where they landed.

still grumbling she sends me on my way

i trudge back, off course, through the crusty snow

the knowing in my heartbeat rises telling me i was summoned

of course but on a fool’s errand

the distance between the edge where she melts,

still muttering,


then fades away into memory.

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