It's snowing ... |
| The storm has leeched the colors - bleached with whiteness the greens and browns turning the world into a black and white photo op. Heavy, wet snow coats every twig and branch. The maple and cherry trees fairy etched, but the pines hang heavy beneath their winter cloaks. No birds dance 'round our feeders under their six-inch snow caps. There is a singular quiet - a hush - a waiting to exhale. Talking heads say the wind is coming; one of heroic proportions. But the woodbin is full and the fireplace is scenting the house with cherry. They say we've twenty-four hours of snow to go. The dog, refusing the shoveled path, sinks belly deep. Comes in to melt by the fire. Curled up in my chair, I stare out through the warm side of the glass, mug of coffee cupped in my hands. |