After picking out our tree
we walk down to a nearby brook
to take a picture for the cards.
Later I’ll curse, bent over the side of the truck,
head in my hands as you pull briars
out of the seat of my pants.
Later you’ll curse, after your dramatic jump
across the babbling stream results
in a soaked foot.
But for now I breathe in deep,
and feel the snow crunch beneath me
as I lean into your weight.
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