Walking on the top
of the snow
that’s crusted-over hard

Your nose running into
the scarf wound around
your face
to keep the wind out

Squinting into the sun
from the glare off
the snow-turned-mirror

Hearing your snow pants
as they polyester-rub
with every booted step

On your way
through the field
to your best friend’s house

Where a fire
and hot cocoa
and a game of Scrabble