The sometimes snow.

It's snowing:  I smile out a window
and catch snowflakes on my tongue.
But not when the snow is six feet deep
and not when the snow makes a tree fall down. 

When I'm tired of the snow I play with Play-Doh and whipped cream.
I make a mountain
I make an ocean
I make a fire hydrant with a man beside it.
I like them. 
It makes me happy to put clay into a good shape. 
Sometimes, I flatten my hand and destroy them all
and mix the colors up
and put the puke-colored glob back in the jar
so no one else can like it. 

When I'm tired of the clay
I read fairy tales
like the one about a Chinese farmer.
It is a riddle:

"He went to Hell, and everyone
Held chopsticks about three feet long.
The feast was prematurely done."
So went the first part of the song.
"In Heaven the man was surprised
For Heaven was Hell in his eyes.
All of the sticks were oversized,
Yes, but nothing was wrong." 
In Hell they only served themselves-
They helped others in Heaven. 
In fact, that Heaven would be Hell
Sans its forward direction."
I close the book. 
I like the book- it makes me happy. 

Then I go out and play
but not when the snow freezes over and makes me fall down like a tree
and not when it keeps an ambulance off a road
to save someone's life
or not to. 
I like life. 
I like the snow.
This snow I smile at
but I don't smile then.

-Citron