THE IGLOO
My mother shows me newly developed photos
of my father and brother, building an igloo
out of the snow that has fallen so heavily.
They smile like two workmen, happy to have made
something that feels worthwhile. Then I look
at old photos of lost family members, smiling.
Melted snow and twigs on garden turf
remain from my father and brother’s work.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/5652925-288-kee9376.jpg)