It waited, this year, till almost March to snow,
It started on a cold Sunday afternoon,
Hard after a Saturday that felt like Spring.
And I was probably alone in the house in just tolerating its arrival.
I carried Littles onto the front porch, after a half hour or so of its falling,
A wet blanket that stood up on the grass (but not the street),
And pointed to the great whiteness for her sake,
Though the one-year-old had already seen it, and was in awe (as she often is).
Later, as I rocked her to sleep, I smelled a dirty diaper and began to change it,
And called to Meredith (she can't smell), who called back that--alarm--
A fire truck was on the street. So I did the awful work myself,
And rushed Littles down the stairs in her reindeer-inspired pajamas.
We watched the red and white colors that lit up the front of our house.
It wasn't clear why the fire truck was there, out on the street.
But the lights on the trees, covered with blankets and pillows of snow,
Were startlingly beautiful. Meredith took pictures.
Snow, Charlottesville, VA, February 19, 2012