2 a.m. Snowstorms

If you aren't a parent
it's quite likely that at 2 a.m.
you were asleep
and not shushing a small child,
who for no explainable reason decided
his own bed was too
small.
cold.
scary.
full of blankets.
not enough pillows.
to continue to sleep in by himself.

If you aren't a parent
at 2 a.m. you weren't tracking down juice
for a small child
and staring out the kitchen window
to see the sky white with snow
and witness the mid-March air fill with a
fluffy.
delicate.
silent.
mid-spring blizzard.
there in the darkness.
A reminder of nature's fickleness.

If you aren't a parent
you missed a moment of the world
at peace,
if a little unseasonably chilly,
but still beautiful,
and soft and delicate,
like a toddler in his bed —
small.
cold.
still.
a little frightening in its beauty
and complexity.
Even at 2 a.m. in the middle of March.