When earth gives way to bulb,
snowdrops remind me
of brighter days to come.
Delicate white bells bob and
bask in cool air and the winter sun’s kiss,
making their debut.
In third grade, the chasm widened when
my father said no to Sara’s slumber party.
Instead, we watched Jeopardy.
“Mom would have let me go,” I mustered.
My cheek stung from the slap,
my arm burned from the grab,
my heart grew numb.
“I can’t let you go,” he stammered, and then
“Psychology for 200, Alex.”
So went my tween years.
Now, as his coffin lowers and settles next to hers,
the earth warms as it swallows his anger.
Darcy Pennoyer Smith is a poet and high school English teacher from New Canaan, CT. Although she is a lifelong writer, she is just venturing into the realm of submitting her poems for publication.