February 24, 2015

Snow blanket. My yard lay perfect and untouched by any foot when I walked out, but for the track of a single mouse skirting the edge of the drive.  Now that I’ve pushed the trash and recyclables out onto the street, all pretense of purity is gone. The falling snow is sweet, though, soft and hushed, almost blue in the tangled night light of the city. Fully awake now that I’ve been plowing around in it.