he’s now five years old and
we stand on the snow in the front yard
outside to be safe and follow pandemic guidelines
snow underfoot crunching in
twenty-five below we all wear winter togs
and he stands smiling with his new gifts wrestled open
on the stoop blue cupcake in
mitten sparklers did not light in the icy wind
but he eats the cold icing sweet under cloud of warm breath
and we heartily sing the birthday
song for all the neighbourhood to hear and
soft blushed cheeks tell the sweet story five years in the making
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