I've wanted to write about Hans Christian Anderson's story, The Snow Queen, and one snowy day last year I followed my wish.
The Snow Pushes Down
by Dawn McDuffie
left to right.
Lightning flashes,
winter thunder.
When I'm asleep,
I dream of white sky
and then I see
a candle flash
in the branches—
there and gone.
But finally a window,
a welcome.
Dream people serve
spice cakes and tea.
This world doesn't
know modern treats.
Here I am eight
watching snow
light up like fireflies.
I know how to make
a story better than
recess. Long division,
penmanship—
I use up the afternoon
rescuing Kay.
The Snow Queen
trapped him in ice,
but love is stronger.
Every day the story
gets bigger,
or it curls around,
and whips up wind.
I can go out into it,
or I can stay here
cozy as the cottage
where the wind's
godmother knits
and knits and
never stops.
