Fresh Snow Old Memory
by Maralee Gerke

On a winter morning,
a dusting of fresh snow
falls silently outside my window.

It transforms the landscape
into a swirling time machine.
Taking me to when my mother was alive.

I would always call her and say
“We have snow”
She would answer “brrrrr better you than me.”

That memory has stayed so fresh
that even all these years later,
when it starts to snow

I still reach for the phone.



 

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