september snow globe

Greg likes snow globes.
The way the world encapsulated
in a bubble can slow,
& each plastic flake
falls, glides to the ground,
settled.

I have one of the city—
the Empire State, the Statue
of Liberty & the Twin Towers.
It’s his favorite.
He shakes it up--arms flailing
as a four year old who hasn’t
fully figured how his body works
does--& waits with breath held
for the ten seconds
of falling to be
over.

“The snow never sticks to the towers,”
Greg says. He tells me:
“It’s because they are so tall,
so tall they are part of the sky.”
They are Greg.
They are.