Imprints in the Snow

This is a poem I wrote back in April after my friend Moriah passed away. It's not my best poem, but I thought it was appropriate to share now because there is so much snow on the ground. It was a cold night like tonight that I had in mind when I wrote this down.

IMPRINTS IN THE SNOW

Have you ever looked back at your footprints

in the snow? They have ridges and swirls. Some

rough and windblown. Some clear where your foot

pressed deep. Firm. It’s not just snowflakes that are

one of a kind.

I look back now in the hollowness of dusk. Inhale

icy air. Exhale warm clouds. I’ve set down a long

line of imprints. Feet in the streets of New York.

Feet stuck in muddy roads of Nebraska. Along side my 

mother. Holding hands with my father. Other steps alone.

Some make me hear the wind echo with laughter,

Sweeter than any melody by even your precious

Death Cab for Cutie. Other prints hold holes filled with 

icicle tears.

I see your imprints back there too. Stopped much too short.

Your new grey fuzzy boots. Size 6.

Suddenly a street light brightens the night

like a warm smile. I turn my face skyward and

stick out my tongue. Receiving each white flake 

as a gift that melts into my heart.

The untouched snow before me is beautiful.

Frightening and fragile.

I don’t want to mess it up.

But you have to take

 a step somewhere.

Even on the lonely nights.