First Snowfall

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I hadn’t thought
about snow
since childhood
offended by fugitive
Whoops and giggles
heard through my first
Rocky Mountain snowfall
after dinner in the dark

shocked by the celebration
I grew up where
winter is a miserable old mister
all black ice and blue lips
frost scraping
back breaking shovel piles
just to get to work
jaded before the first coffee

Caught myself mid smile
as I dug for my slouchy toque
Raced out the door
to join a beautiful new flock
of Bow Valley hopefuls
as we fought, chased, embraced
our right to reclaim our
wild Canadian winters

I could see clearly
through the storm
I was home.

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