It’s snowing. It’s been snowing for a long time—since early yesterday morning. At least a foot on the ground now. Doesn’t seem like much to some, maybe. Doesn’t seem like much to me looking out the window. Walking in it, that’s another matter. Doesn’t seem like much compared to snowfalls I remember shoveling in the wee hours before plowing down the drive and skidding to work, wet, cold, weary before I began. Those days are gone, but the snow remains.
So many snowflakes. They mesmerize.
Snowflakes are like words. They make stories that plow and skid. Some of my words are wet, cold, weary, like the snow. But I’ve got happy, warm words, too. I know I do. They’re someplace around here. I’ve got more words in me than the world has snowflakes. You, too?