The Grown-Up

It's snowing!

The notion sends a thrill of

Back-breaking, childlike adrenaline

Down my spine as the flakes fall outside the window,

Spinning in choreographed patterns

In an attempt to hypnotize me

Calling my name as if I were ten.

"Come! I can be your castle, your fortress!

I will be your ammunition and your canvas!

I will be a blanket and a bath, all in one!

Yes, you, ten-year-old, I can see you,

Hiding there inside that grown-up standing inside

With their scalding, delicious coffee—

You know that it's disgusting anyway

So trade it in for your mitts and hat;

Come outside and join me!"

It rages and piles softly into tempting dunes

Whispering and roaring as it pulls at my heart

Tearing me into two:

But there's only one that succeeds

As I watch the coffee spiraling down the drain

And I pull on my mitts and my hat

To find the shovel.

The driveway must be cleared.