Midnight, after the snow;
tree branches, thick and white, hung low.
I walk about our blocks;
tracks in the snow from a fox.
After the snow, streets light with moon flow.
These are the streets I grew up on;
days of a small lilac bike are gone.
But tonight, I am wearing my rubber boots,
so I jump and slide in the snow slush for hoots.
Midnight, after the snow;
streets light with moon flow.
The quiet of a suburban night;
front yard trampled from a snowball fight.
I know the secret to where the children slept;
homes where the lonely snowmen wept.
After the snow, streets light with moon flow.