Snow Angel

Because last week through the translucent window

I saw the glimmer of the first frost freeze

over the trees and hills around my house—

shimmering and coating everything in bright white

that shone undisturbed and sparkling

as if calling to the deer and the foxes to come make their mark—

and because this was the first morning

that the snow stuck and stayed on the ground through the morning

and the children played

and laughed,

I settled in my cozy window seat

with a cup of caramel coffee— the snowflakes fell

in swirling patterns to the earth,

large, chunky, flakes that would catch in hair and eyelashes

and coat people in a dusting that looked straight from a fairytale—

and because the earth was peaceful

and a blank paper stared up at me,

and a pen itched to write,

I wrote: the frost sparkles up at me,

and beacons me to come join it,

in its cold embrace,

spread out on the freezing ground

like a snow angel.