He taught us
That snow is magic
As full of breath
As you and me
Holding life
In its fingerprints
Tenderness
In its touch
We’d watch him on the television Dancing among the children
Pipe bobbing in his mouth
Smoke rising
From warm lungs
And we’d go outside
To raise a Frosty of our own
Between small palms
Rolling that consecrated stuff Between our fingers
Growing stiff with the effort
With the act of Creation
And when the crystals joined together Eagerly
We learned that even snow
Was yearning
To be made whole
We watched as each crystal
Kissed the grass
And we found
In each small flake
A present to the earth
Their gift tags reading,
From: the sky
Simple
Unwrapped
No glitter
No bows
No reciprocation
Necessary—
There is nothing more holy
Than this
Than the ground hugged closer
To the atmosphere
Nothing more sacred
Than heaven
Falling to our feet
With a wish to be held
A desire to play and dance and sing Like children
Nothing—
Except perhaps
The sun peeping out
Too curious of the universe’s joy to stay hidden
And the light parts two friends Who have only just met
A promise of return
Seeping into the ground
Raising the earth higher
In the meantime
Until next year
When the radio croons
Once again
And Frosty dances
On its waves
Reminding us
Not to cry
He’ll be back again
Some day.
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