Seasonal Son

In my dream, my son runs into a shed
out of March snow where inside,
broken colored lights hum off
hollow. He gets spooked. A dark
tube drops down like a tunnel
 
but he stays in his own freezing
breath. Shades haunt the hole
dug into frozen dirt, can't follow
him further. He works himself
 
deeper & deeper till handsprays
of earth suddenly shower him free,
shot ash, & up he comes to me out
of his life separate from mine, clever
& clean as a shoot in the spring.