Last Snow

Propped up to take a pill
to have her face washed,
her hair combed,
she saw upon the window sill
a mound of snow.
She remembered ...
that empty space
after school
between there and there.
Snow brushing her face
heat rising from the collar
of her opened coat.
Scentless air
and the soft, slow walk
through a field of all possibilities.

Bridget Harwell