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.