On days like today, I stand like a kid,
arms spread wide looking up into the snow
coming down onto me and think about how
you used to say that you didn’t mind
the cold so much. You were a northern man.
So am I, I guess. You liked how sleet bit, 
snapping like champagne bubbles when it hit
your face. You liked driving in freezing rain.
When I was little, you were the giant 
who feared nothing god could throw your way.
You’d come in that oversized winter coat
a little annoyed when anyone complained.
Now I look up into the clouds and want to say
something. I want you to answer. I know you won’t.