they remind me when we went to mamaw’s
taking the new road, which passed the back yard
the front porch aligned with the creek, the old road
once under the arbor, down the concrete steps
we played on the aluminum glider
its screech announcing our visit, followed by
screen door whacks, plop of bucket in well,
the crunch of green apples papaw would pick by the barn
did I tell you he used to save snowballs wrapped in foil?
saved for us kids when summer came and we couldn’t remember
the cold we once held so dear
now an impossible dream