Outdoors, I find gifts for my son:

White, hollow snail shells

Rocks with holes or bits of glimmer

Fresh dandelions. 

On nature walks, his dimpled hands

Point, gather, receive.

Rain folded the frozen earth in her arms, said

“Let me embrace you awhile. Let us transform.”

A world hard as geode, scintillating. 

Glassy overcoats of ice for all the trees

Lovely changelings, till the branches, with dismay, 

Succumbed: the new weight pulling, cracking, crashing.