Snow Day

 It starts with stillness.


In the deafening silence, the largest, softest flake. The fullest, whitest, gentlest circlet dragging through the blanket of air. A twirl, a flick and a 360 turn. And then another. And then more. Suddenly, they're all around. Dancing and flitting in the filtered sunlight. Never crossing paths, sharing in the space. Delighting in the knowledge of the eventual landing. Covering as much distance as they could before then.

The biggest flakes came first, as though they were lying in wait right against the floodgates. These were the ones that were the most eager to enter this world. With a clarity that almost defied the laziness of the trail they produced coming down.

The snow thinned out and started falling with a hunger. Scrambling over each other in what was the beginnings of a hurry. Swimmers clambering over one another, the front one piercing through and then faltering as though embarrassed of its own need. Overtaken by the next, and then faltering with its own judgement. The rest of the pack drafting at ease behind the forerunners.

The goal was clear and in sight. The sweet ground beckoned and the sleet came down to embrace it. There was no denying the sprinters as they raced towards the finish line. The wind arrived and swung the curtain open. The lighter of the snow was pushed aside, and then came back with a vengeance to reclaim their rightful trajectory.

Almost imperceptibly the downfall thinned out. Stretched tight but still falling fast. The tree boughs waved in ease, welcoming the last of the horde. Until it became a trickle.

Emptiness. A void. A container reminded of the water that surged through moments before. A soft nostalgia for the brilliance of the swarm.

Then the cloud breaks.

A breath.

Published on
2/12/19 5:21 PM

It's nostalgic. Recovering my old works

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