Six inches of snow across fields, naked trees, sidewalk curbs. Peter Pan rolled from Boston to Springfield, Northampton to Amherst. Brother waited for brother. Snow-spray windshield fluid flick constant. Another family, a second, a split. A brother from another mother. He smiled; losing hair at 26. Wore a baseball hat to cover. North Face vest his New York girlfriend bought and she’ll be out on Friday. Christmas Saturday. Some Christian wrote a card said candy cane Letter J for Jesus and red the blood of Christ. They’re taking over the world and they rule the country. A cyclical thing. To lay low or not to go, bro. Brother shook his head at the box of candy cane, battalions under cellophane. Waited to trim the tree. Mom and dad ran errands. Brothers walked through Cadwell woods, on Mt. Lincoln, to a small, icy brook runs into the Amethyst, and the Fort River to the Connecticut. Stand on the slope and know water running. Warm enough in the snow to remove gloves. Near cascades recited lines and gave breath to prayer. About something; anything; everything. Guest room in the basement and it was three degrees. There’s a wood stove. Bathroom an ascent, far away at three a.m., a lone nightlight wigging the way, waking. Youngest slept hand/chin with the muted, flickering TV.
