What I Wanted

Tracey Herd

was such a plump, bountiful

landscape of snow, more

than I'd ever dared wish for.

That was back when we had

proper winters, long ago,

when lawns and driveways

vanished: there were

no boundaries. Fences, walls,

gardens and homes dropped off

the edge of the world.

There was a muffled

silence each night when

darkness married with snow

to wake me from dreams

that began and ended

with the snow. I was hidden

from view behind a tree

whose branches were

perilously bent and laden

with snow, watching

a dark figure disappear;

then I would slip out fearlessly,

sure-footed and fleet,

with my magnifying glass

and pocket torch to follow

the tracks that led off as far

as a child's eye could see,

and then a little further.