"To An Impetuous Snowflake" (On Her Birthday) by Nina Ricci

I. Dedication

Ten years

Adjacent storybooks forced to a far end,

Seven shelved reference books

spread to meet the first ten

And the latest past, a chapter book

a required text, a must-needs read

was volume 17 of your anthology



II. Bookends, dividers
Years are markers to sort and order time

There are no portals entitled to enter

-no swing-hinge doorways:

we are door-makers

We walk long halls,

not that they are long,

We just get stuck, or stay lost, or slay time

Long, because our indirect steps and

latent footfall, we are

Lackadaisical.



III. Memories

Clips of confetti fluttering

catch our eye, a pence of what was-

They are dramas re-mastered

sequences quantized,

the shorts we store-

Those that inform on ourselves-

Impressions kept



IV. Reveries

Films we spasmodically score

set to the music we dream by

Reticent elaborations-

Thought-spun illusions;

Be careful of them.



V. Commencement
On the first chapter of your 18th book,

Do not scribble on the page.

Take notes, stick post-its.

Have confidence and confide in

The Caretaker,

Most dreams are pipe schemes

Ask for a bearing and row


Don’t let sincerity be a dullness

You won’t knock off your shine for

Smile at violets,

To an impetuous snowflake

On her birthday