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First Snow

By Robert L. Brimm / December 2, 1996

I watch them

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sliding slowly

on my windowpane,


come to warn me

of impending winter,

stirring again

that memory

of plucked feathers,

as she called them,

swiftly enveloping

Grandma and me

on a hillside path.

I can still taste

that delicious

melting cold,

still hear her

laughing with me,

that great

explosion of joy.