On a snowy Saturday

8 Jan

you don’t have to change from your pajamas.

You can stuff your belly with brownies and brie cheese

and it feels good

because you have nowhere else to be.

You can linger over your mug of cocoa,

from your perch on the nursery floor,

and laugh with your full heart

and full belly,

at the giggling, squealing little pink person before you.

You kiss her sweet sweet-potato-covered face

and she laughs and dances.

Over and over

and over

as the snow falls


You don’t mind at all.

You are warm.

You can measure inches of snow

and count the quiet kisses

that the baby gives to the dog

and the dog gives to the baby,

in return,

and pile blankets on the floor

to sit upon

and watch

all of this beauty

in wonder.


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