Shadow Poet

First Snow

It was the first snowfall
of the season.

Our boots crunched
crunched, crunched
through the street
as we walked
down our avenue.

We laughed,
we sang,
our voices bright
in the cold.

A neighbor heard us,
came out grinning,
pelted us with snowballs.

We scattered, shouting,
our breath rising
in steamy clouds
that drifted,
then vanished.

We were living
inside that moment,
not yet knowing
how alive we were.