When Searching for the Calm & Quiet

Snow falls heavy, quiet.

The red pines shoulder more of the burden and sink low, acquiescing. Emerald arbor vitaes shudder slightly in the cold, winter snows settling deeper in their cracks and crevices. Tiny trikes disappear into deck drifts, and a wee man's steps already erode away.

Swings sway gentle in the breeze, and flakes tumble incessantly. Storm warning advisories cancel all afternoon activities, and the snow continues to fall, stacking from six inches to potentially eight or fifteen. My raspberries sleep in straw beds, covered in deep white drifts, and the flakes continue to fall.

Surrendering to the weight, clumps of snow suddenly careen off red pines and the rigor mortis fir, slipping to the white below.

In the silence, beauty falls. The Artist's extravagant strokes sweep wide, and the world stops to ponder, peering long from cozy kitchen windows, or from behind fogged up windshields, stopped at a light.

Snow falls heavy, quiet.