Today, snowflakes have been landing softly,
sprinkling their icing sugar frosting
on black rooftops,
getting tangled in eyelashes,
covering every crevice,
blocking out sounds,
quenching the smell of the soil.
Inside, the softness lands, too.
The quiet of a Saturday.
Actually hearing the coffee brewing in the kitchen,
water rushing from the tap,
the abrupt rustling of sheets,
as they're changed for crisp, fresh ones.
the persistent creak of that one loose floorboard
in the hallway
under bare feet.
A white, cold, long month,
but with a subdued lull.
A little trip on the horizon,
intriguing projects in the pipeline,
babies about to be born,
granny reaching a grand one hundred.
Loose ends, too,
but without stealing the limelight
from the gratitude that rises to the surface
for life & its surprises,
the natural pace of things
that goes unforced.