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.