Snow Cone, Hold the Cone
For a single week, they didn't have to deal with bland
People, young and old, ran from home, mouths open to catch
Flakes that would melt, explode on their tongues so they could taste
Chocolate, vanilla, whatever the clouds bestowed
Poet's Notes: This is a little fantasy piece inspired by winter weather and ice cream. After ice cream, I thought of snow cones, which I haven't eaten in forever, and came up with the title. Really, everything came about by simply imagining flavors falling from the sky in snowflake form, the only flavors the people in this fictional land get to taste all year, bringing a stronger desire than usual for the first snow. As long as they can be caught fresh, I think it would be amazing if nature could invent such a thing, without losing all other flavors of life, of course.
Editor’s Note: From a literal standpoint, this one reminds me collecting freshly fallen snow and pouring maple syrup on it and eating it--a rare treat! The poem also reads as a larger metaphor for those who work in mind-numbing and/or backbreaking jobs and enjoy only a short period of paid time off each year (like my father for most of his life).
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