Wet, clumsy flakes drop from the sky,
The kind of snow that sinks in right away,
Soaking to the bone,
Piling up in the corners of car windows,
Wiped from windshields in heavy strokes—
Clearing the view ahead.
The sheriff leads the way, lights flashing.
We wind behind,
Our teacher train,
(Trying not to cry!)
Beside the road
And hanging out the windows of parked cars,
Our families do the same.
With faces alight,
A blur of brightly colored coats-hats-mittens-scarves.
Their signs thank us,
Our signs thank them—
Thankful for each other.
Neighbors pause in walking their dogs,
Perhaps remember when their own kids were in school,
Nodding, waving, appreciating.
Small faces peek from windows,
(Yes, we’re here to see you!)
A break from what has become the everyday
Of stay at home—
A mobile gathering.
Not (yet) together—
But no longer apart.