the snow globe

i shake

the snow globe

that i bought at Coney Island

one summer

when traveling with someone

i thought

i loved.

i bought the globe

from a woman

with whiskers

behind

a glass cage,

she slid it through

the opening

and i gave her three dollars

and seventy-five

cents.

i take it out for the holidays

now.

i spin

the dial

on the bottom

so that music comes out,

jingle bells,

then shake it

hard

to make it snow on

the little people inside,

a reindeer on top

of the tiny

house.

joy comes

in strange ways sometimes.