your second first snow

it snowed last night
and i could smell you —
blood and baby dust,
mixed with ash from a light that had just burned out

i am glad to see winter again
even though it brings me closer to your death.
but i have now known you longer
not breathing than breathing
[i thank God eternity will change that]

so for now,
this cold, white blanket over the town
makes me warm.
and i snuggle into the memory
of when i first learned how to parent you from the ground
as you danced in the sky with other snowflakes

as you danced through my thoughts in the day
as i imagined you
falling asleep in my arms at night.