Hortensia Anderson
Blizzard
Snow falls lightly at first. As the wind rises,
fragile ice crystals cling. Swirling around me,
the air turns pure white.
Back home, I heat spiced glogg, spooning sul-
tanas into my mouth. They feel plump, heavy
with aquavit - life water.
A fire in the hearth glows. Red camellias wo-
ven through my black silk robe blaze. I feel
myself drifting, drifting...
The telephone rings.
On an icy road, my cousin Elise spun out.
She is dead.
"Take care" I had said, giving her a last hug.
For a second, we clung like snow.
"Don't I always?" she replied, laughing.
winter chill –
the snowflake on my cheek
melts to a tear
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