Small Stone, January 20

You, kid, are going to freeze
if you keep refusing to zip your coat.
Your nose is red, but your grin is wide.
You are happy to sit under the branches --

"Zero leaves," you explain, "all gone. Leaves back what time? Spring."

You giggle your way through another chapter
of this book we're reading,
of this life you're writing.

I love that I get to read both.