days of snow

It used to be I walked miles
after the first snowfall.
Now, I tie the baby
to my chest and walk four blocks. Every
dark glisten of pavement seems sinister.
One bad fall, last winter,
my mother-self cannot forget. Limbs creak
overhead. Beautiful, dangerous.
Snow falls magical and unexplainable, all
I can say to her pointed queries is, "Snow, snow."
My new view of the world.