Exhaling clouds into winter’s trance,
Squinting though the frost at bright sunlight,
A tiny woman leans against her cane
With frigid fingers too stiff to move as she
Shuffles to a stop—just a pause.
Wearing a frayed old coat with hem detached,
Her frizzy white hair fringing a stocking cap,
She watches laughing children build a fort—
Protection from a snowman with broomstick
Arms, a drooping cucumber nose, and a staff.
A frenzied turmoil erupts as children look
For a missing boot beneath their fort
Falling down as they searched for what could not
Be found amid a wall—the boot had become
Home plate for the snowman’s staff, a baseball bat.
Her knitted gloves with dangling threads possess
Little grip as she fumbles with the snow
Beside the trampled walkway and tries to make
A softball to strike the snowman out while in
those few moments she is back on fields of play.
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