this poem wasn't supposed to be about my dad

The
snow
began
wet,
heavy
snow
that
caused
branches
to
shake
themselves
of
the
heavy
coat
you
were
supposed
to
come
and
ground
me
once
again
as
you
always
do
but
the
storm
tracked
exactly
where
you
needed
to
travel
before
you
and
held
you
at
bay
this
all
came
to
me
as
i
stood
in
a
century-
old
theatre
surrounded
by
people
i
didn't
know
and
music
drifted
from
the
mouth
of
a
hapless
artisit
whom,
of
course,
sang
lyrics
that
connected
of
drifting
days
with
you
guiding
my
path
and
you
were
here
after
all
and
the
snow
continued
to
fall
with
power
lines
snapping
and
balls
of
snow
collecting
on
the
roof
and
gravity
sends
them
cascading
with
a
thump
and
a
jump
from
me
like
a
cat
being
startled
by
energy
in
a
room
and
there
you
were.

the fall let beautiful things happen