I lost a gold ring
one rare snowy day
when we lived on Merriwood Ct.
It must have slipped
off my cold right ring finger
when I threw a snowball
and my slush-soaked mitten flew too.
The neighbor lady found it,
to our surprise, next spring in the lawn.
Love can be this way.
You can lose it
when you are tossing things,
when the world’s too cold.
You become accustomed
to its absence, stop feeling for it
with your thumb.
One day, it may turn up
where you least expect,
amid a scattering of dandelions
in the season’s warm rain.
