Bagels and Snowballs

I’m at a loss for describing the beauty of moss

on snowy tree trunks during winter’s frost.

I tend to find myself lost, wandering across

barely frozen ponds searching for signs of

my car’s idling exhaust. Although exhausted,

I continue to study the icicles hanging from the

brownstones in Boston - while I walk my dog

through parks and sidewalks freshly frosted

in a thin layer of white gesso. Cheddar bagels

slowly rise inside of cozy ovens on cold corners

adjacent to old cafes brewing fresh espresso.

As we walk home, equipped with a breakfast special,

my dog catches snowflakes while I purchase a

bottle of cheap prosecco. A snowball fight

ensues as we round the final block,

home never smelled so good,

just follow the chicken stock.