The Schnee Stone

By | 1 December 2022

He brings it home one ordinary afternoon,
cupped in his hands like a fresh piece of hail.
When he rolls the rock between his palms
a fine precipitation sifts down, barely visible,
and the air between us crackles, falls several
degrees colder. We marvel at the rare find:
this tiny blizzard for the pocket, a child’s fist-
sized conjuring of snow. If only I too, as a girl,
had found such treasure. He slips it in a bowl
of steaming water. We watch in silence, solemn,
as the surface slurries, begins to knit its dull
cataract of ice. The schnee stone darkens ever
so slightly, and refuses to melt.

* Schnee: German for snow

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