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Angels in the Snow

Beth Gibson

I remembered how you looked
Pulling my sled through the snowstorm
Brushing snowflakes from graying hair
With a slightly stiffened hand
Then lying in a drift
Your yellow face against the white powder
Flapping thin arthritic wings
To make me some angels in the snow

I suppose in 1940
You built snowmen in a meadow
You were young
The snowmen knew your touch

And I remembered how you looked
Hollow frame in an iron wheelchair
Blue eyes sunk in a mass of wrinkles
Staring blankly into space
As I turned to leave the Home
Your trembling hand reached out to touch me

I kissed the helpless fingers
That once made
Angels in the snow.

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