Winter Is a Promise

Posted on March 7, 2013


barred_owl3It’s snowing right now in Massachusetts. It’s snowing all over, I think. (I often wonder how they handle snow in other parts of America, if they fret and worry it the way so many of us in New England do.)

At 11PM, it’s dark, save for a bare grey hue that back-lights the trees. Skinny trees, bunched and clustered, swaying all to their own silent meter (how will we get them back together and organized for the singalong?). Every branch is perfectly etched and frosted with soft, white crystal.

The plows are out. I can hear the thwack and drag as another blade hits the pavement and scoots along in the distance. I can see the lights down on the road below us and I feel comfortable and fortunate and lucky to be here in this warm place tonight.

The snow is beautiful. And perfect. A sea of immaculate molecules spun into an endless pile of gossamer thread. Outside, right now, the world is a moment that has never existed before. Never in this exact way.

Posted in: Marginalia