The first snow

we have been waiting, now 

bundled against the cold, I jog down the

street bathed in the glare of a headlights,

head down to the wind.

we have waited so long and the skis

are trembling in the basement, 

S is buying whiskey to warm us.

the snow is falling with abandon in the 

mountains, swirling dervishes of white

will cover the slopes followed

by the brittle crisp early morning,

the new snow will sparkle with 

the sun, our skis will whir.