Slowly, the snow fell.
Drifting, dancing, silent and smooth, free and flighty. Like white blossom petals, falling gracefully from the heavens above. Some flakes were alone, other fell and clumped together. But one sure thing was their downward journey to Earth. The lucky fell on soft layers of accumulated snow. The less fortunate fell into puddles and vanished as soon as they landed, as if they never existed.
There is a kind of magic in watching the snow fly and fall. A kind of magic that is even more enticing when you are in the midst of it all, feeling the tinkle of flakes on your cheeks, nose, eyebrows. A tinkle that suddenly melts away leaving behind an ever so subtle trace of moisture, like morning dew left behind on leaves.
The covered world seemed to shine like a smooth, soft carpet of white. Trees creeked overhead, their upstretched branches frozen solid. With the coating of ice, the trees glittered in the dim wintry sunlight. Snow crunched beneath my feet, as I shuffled and slid on the road, ever so wary of the treacherous slippery surfaces.
I stuck out my tongue and tasted the snow, like an excited boy seeing snow for the first time. In a way it was. Never before have I seen so much snow, so much white and purity all around me. With each snowfall, a certain tranquility covers the land. When excitement meets and mixes with tranquility, there is an unspoken calm that washes over me that makes me want to go outside and enjoy all that snowfall.
At least for now.
