Meet me on Old Mine Road

near Bevans Church and

I will tell you about

that snowy February day

on the gravel trail

near Van Campen’s Inn,

air, ice fresh,

rock-strewn fields

like whipped cream swirls,

the sounds of foraging

mice, snow crystals

shifting in afternoon sun,

the click of a Nikon

as we pushed knee-deep

through drifts

shooting crumbling

barns and shadows

cast by barren limbs

in late day light.

I will tell you about

the lone house near

the river’s edge

warm with yellow light,

how wisps of smoke

like wind-blown kite tails

danced above a slanted roof,

how a memory of one day

can change a life.