What I Wanted

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.