It snowed today.
For the first time,
the thought of a snowman—
abandoned above the belly, armed
with one too many appendages—
never arrived.
No palms up, no head tipped back,
no let me feel you on my lashes,
and later, in every inconvenient cranny.
Instead, they skipped on by—
all mittens and momentum—
come, build a snowman.
Maybe next time.