were iced
and schools were certainly
closed for a day or two,
at best a week.
how glorious it was to be cold.
our cheeks flushed,
our hands wet inside our gloves
our boots full
of melting snow.
and then the moon would appear,
as we flew down the hills.
then up again.
then down.
the long shadows of
our short lives would appear.
how lovely it would have been
to bottle those years.
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