Snow Day

Sleepy trees remain still in the cool, crisp air as joyful sparrows dart from tree to tree. Clouds in every shade of grey paint the sky, and a silence -heard only in the dead of winter- is present. Soon, a newborn breeze begins to play a light sonata on the delicate wind chimes above the porch. The trees awaken to the music, and stir restlessly. I watch and wait silently with them. My nose and cheeks turn to a light rouge color. My skin begins to sting from the escalating winter winds. The blood in my fingertips stiffens. My eyes become dry and thirst for warmth and humidity. As I turn to open the front door, to blanket myself in the sultry air of the living room, I feel a tiny cold bite on my nose... then on my cheek... again on my lower lip... My eyes drift upwards to scan the grey sky, only to meet a cascade of what looks to be millions of miniature specks of white cotton. I allow the newcomers to penetrate the pink skin on my face, and I open my mouth to taste their pureness-- a taste that cannot be imitated by any other. I twirl in a whirlwind of circles, arms outstretched, eyes to the heavens. My inner child has emerged, and will bask in the perfection of this day.