The Rock Who Cried
Photograph XI -- Snowflake
I have a Polaroid snapshot
Four women standing beneath a tree.
Branches —
Moist bark, black as sin, covered with and
contrasted against the purity of new snow -
Crisscrossed each other like multitudes
of fuzzy fingers.
Do you remember?
They woke us at five.
"Quick! Open the curtains and look outside."
We jumped out of bed and tugged at the
drawstrings of the drapes.
Outside, snow -
Complete unfamiliarity covered by white.
We spent so long looking that we weren't dressed
when Rose and her daughter came visiting.
Omelettes for breakfast!
Poor Tom got sent for the bacon and mushrooms
and got the red pickup bogged in the snow
and had to walk back, wet and ruddy and
frozen.
It took him so long to return that we just
assumed he was settled down in some cozy
barroom for the duration.
After two giant omelettes,
Slice after slice of golden, buttery toast,
and several pots of coffee,
We all went out to play in the snow.
God, what fun we had with children's games:
Snowball fights,
Races and
Lots of snow down each neck.
You got cold and borrowed my coat because you
had forgotten your own.
Everyone looked so beautiful that I ran inside,
got my camera,
and posed the four of you beneath that tree.
It was the first time my Hawaiian girl had
ever seen snow falling.
Do you remember?
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