Snow. We awaken to many inches of snow. And more swirling, slanting, sifting snow. Silence.
White light. A snow blows the steaming breath of many gods . How silly of me. Not many gods. But a breath of one god — a powerful snow storm, and the cars, covered with heaps and heaps of snow, sit like stranded arks in sea of white.
Branches and bushes bow and bend under the snow weight. Skinny trees stand with some branches pasted with frosting. Crack, branches break. Thud on the roof.
Car tires slice the wet street. I hear my feet crunch the snow. I breathe out a white cloud. Snow stops. Listen. Coo Cooo, echoes from a distant tree. This dove, like Noah’s bird with an olive branch in its beak, tells us the storm has ended.
Surely, no storm lasts forever. Now go kiss a snowflake. Amen.