My “walking archive” specimen tray held time.
Held fragility.
Held change.
Held life.
In the moments after I scooped
snow, it
became slush,
became water.
If I wait long enough the tray
will dry leaving a
ring of sediment:
ghostly evidence.
All I want is to hold
snow that
remains snow:
freeze time.
💜
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Love the last stanza
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Thank you!!
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