Waiting For Snow

There is a drought,
dust on the boxes
with hooks and bulbs
pressed in paper a year ago

when there was an inch
that melted the next day.
You, stand eager with snow boots
used only for infrequent visits
to Carson City, where mountains
don't wait

I say, the snow will come
snow will come
just like birthdays reassure
it’s not a casual thing,
the snow

it falls through time,
it remembers
windows wait all over the world,
peering eyes become frost and ice
weighing the lines














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