Holding Out
May 20 2023
On the south side
hard against the trees
a rump of well-packed snow
is holding out.
Late May, and how unlikely is this?
A sanctuary of shade,
a model of persistence.
A hot day
the sun at its zenith.
But standing close
I can feel the cold
washing over me,
step back and feel the heat.
Water
trickles from the bottom
and pools at my feet.
The snow is soiled, coarse, pock-marked
and won't last much longer.
But for now
I relish the incongruity;
winter
coexisting with summer,
the juxtaposition
of fire and ice.
Yet it's only a month away
from when the days start to shorten.
Next year
when the driveway is plowed
I'll ask him to bank it higher.
A mountain of snow,
lasting through summer
and into the fall.
A cool balm
for sunburned skin.
Toboggan rides
and snowball fights in August.
Pina coladas
on ice.
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