I should have gone skiing with you
this morning. I was up at nine, but
stayed in bed until twelve. Mom's shoes
would have fit fine, really, with one more
pair of socks. What did the trail
look like?
I imagine lumps of
snow on evergreens. A skinny trail
of green and white. All is quiet,
except for the hollow shift of your
skis that is there then gone.
From now on, the snow will only melt, I'm sure.
You say there hasn't been this much in years.
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