At 8 o'clock one evening I looked through
a front upstairs window
to admire new snow covering the neighbourhood.
At the far end of a narrow strip of garden
beside the driveway
was a small dark figure--
a child, well bundled against cold,
but nonetheless disconcertingly alone.
He knelt right where garden
and sidewalk meet,
and he faced the house,
his hands scrunching snow into balls.
Who was he?
At a distance, at night,
a Michelin man of miniature proportions,
a magical creature dropped into the scene
in order to focus my mind,
a gnome of winter's garden.
Actually, it was young Freddy
from two doors down
taking a break
from his self-appointed task
of shoveling our walk.
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
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