I am enthralled by little pins
of cold that dissipate on my tongue.
The crisp air tingles my nostrils
as I gaze into the soft grey sky.
The flakes are tiny.
They float lazily down
and sparkle for an instant
before disappearing into the grass.
The silence is palpable.
“This is it,” I think to myself.
“This is the real snow
I have been waiting for
ever since that first wet,
sticky mess in November.”
I want to laugh out loud
and shout into the sky.
But it would be almost sacreligious
to break the silence.
I gather firewood and go
back into the house.
The dog wants to go outside,
she barks once
and the moment is gone.
But her presence reminds me of you.
