Sunday, February 03, 2008

The Snow it Falls

Snow falls in shifts, light and steady or quick and heavy. I slide on ice puddles, slop through melted slush, tread unsteadily down sidwalks left unshoveled. We see our breath puff like dragons, hear the car rattle its frozen metal through white tunnel alleys. The snow glistenes, throws blueish shadows, and continues falling through the night. Cars are burried in side-of-the-road snow drifts, trees get sprinkled stiff, plows scratch and scrape their heavy blades at squeaky, stubborn snow. It works its way down into our boots and inside our gloves, it gusts in our faces and stops our breath. We brush and shovel and wipe it away, but still is falls. White and new and powerful, the snow and its magic fall on us, over and over and over.

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