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.