Again the slush and gray

of winter is etched in spidery

silver across my window.

Again I am a child bundled for school.

Mother opens the door, lets me out

into a blistering snow.

I push until I fall

several times, knocked down

by wind and turn home.

No, you can't stay. There's

school today. Just walk.

Snowflakes are blossoms of ice.

The door is shut. What a surprise.

I who loved school, but not the cold

never look back in gratitude,

but admit that day I learned

sleet was something to walk through.

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