snow on Saturday night

As dusk rose last evening, the finest snow began to fall.

Only felt, landing frozen on forehead and cheeks, while walking down the sidewalk between car and front door.

Looking out from inside, almost dark, seeing snow-covered roofs and windows of parking lot cars, still invisible falling.

Then, opening my window to feel them again, looking straight down.

There! silent powder drifted down, revealed by floodlight.

Leaning over my low table, putting palms on window sill, face chilling out the open window — a generous heat rising from the radiator, warming up arms, to shoulders, to chin, to face — watching snow thicken, suddenly dense under every street light, white-blanketing road, parking lot, tree branches, grass.

I remembered, then, calling you earlier, saying, “I am perfectly fine. How strange, exhilarating even.” 

This moment was like that, like every perfect moment ever spent gazing out on snow falling, in every city and town I have ever called home.

~ ms. spincycle

 

 

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snow in the Cliveden's flood light

 

on Cliveden looking east