Watching my younger son on Whiteface Mountain.
Snowbird
A swallow on skis,
He flutters and then soars
Gracefully, artistically
Like painting in the snow;
He is free and easy,
A born skier;
And he’s mine, for now
But someday
He will fly away.
Poetry by Nancy Sikora
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Written on 2016-03-01 at 00:46
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