9.

lace

a new wet snow

morning and

clinging to forever gray

architecture

the driving’s good

wooden flyers stacked

and ready

clatter

in the back of this

north (of somewhere

shining – a responsibility

to slide down long, easy hills

and so we go

) is real

snowmen too

boys will be boys

will believe

will be

joy

we manage a face, black stone buttons

but leave them wanting, dreaming

lacking proper sticks

for arms (

this new snow

lace

on a world of trees

) gone 

by tomorrow