MY WINTER CITY

A father and child enjoy a frigid day together in the city.

In first-person narration, with a definite sense of ownership, a youngster describes winter in an urban setting. “My winter city holds early light / around us, / a moment before sunrise, / silent, / still.” Nothing is plowed, nothing is touched. There is just the young tot peering out the window, looking at the snow. Then, with toboggan firmly in tow, the duo (along with a pup) sets off outside. The serene silence has changed. “My winter city is a soup of salty slushes, full of sliding buses / splashing, spraying, sploshing, soaking walkers on the sidewalk.” They squeeze into the bus with other damp riders, all fogging up the windows. Then they emerge into a new scene—a park. “My winter city is a deep-freeze / vision of big icy sled hills / and towers that rise up through / far-away skies.” The buildings loom large behind trees and newly cut sledding tracks. Snowflakes continue to dot the sky throughout the adventure, all the way until home again. This specific setting may be unfamiliar to some readers, but the narrator opens the end to varied possibilities: “That’s my winter city. // What’s yours?” Clement surprises readers with unexpected compositions, crowding them into the bus with all the passengers then pulling back and up for a bird’s-eye view of the city street. Father and child both present white, but the community they inhabit is a diverse one.

A delicious, snow-filled slice of life.