First Snow

(for Mormor)

I met a wilting flower

at autumn’s end.

The chill in the air

made us wrap our arms

around each other

not for warmth or comfort,

but as a barrier

against the arriving winter.

I passed by her resting spot today.

There was that small hump,

the soft curve of a stem

a summer well lived

a wildflower gone to bed.

She laid beneath the sky,

petals spread like memories,

leaves folded

in the shape of a prayer.

I imagine she bloomed first

in the spring

brighter,

taller,

fearless

than the others

who gave into the wind

She held on

long enough to be remembered

until her bloom

grew heavy

and heavier.

Tomorrow,

it should snow.