That was the week
it didn't stop snowing.

That was the week
five-fingered trees fell

on houses & power lines
broke like somebody waiting

for payday in a snowstorm.
That snow week, my daughter

& I trudged over the broken branches
fidgeting through snow

like hungry fingers through
an empty pocket.

Over the termite-hollowed stump
as squat as a flat tire.

Over the hollow
the fox dives into
when we open the back door at night.

That was the week of snow
& it glittered like every
Christmas card we could
remember while my daughter

poked around for the best place
to stand a snowman. One

with a pinecone nose.
One with thumb-pressed

eyes to see the whole
picture once things warm up.