I love to watch the snowfall.
The sky has turned into a greyscape, low and glowing dimly.
There’s the perspective of the whirling, floating snowflakes, they seem to pelt so fast it’s dizzying, rushing groundwards. But focus closer and the freefall slows, becomes a to and fro dance and twirl. Pick one out in the middle distance and try to follow its zigzag path to the ground, dazed by the faster millions behind it.
And if it sticks, the snow on the ground completes the white circle, a snow-globe world, each stone and leaf and discarded coke can made pure and pretty.
It ionizes us, the snow fall, grounds us maybe, pulls down fresh, clear, higher air to breathe icily in.
I wish it happened every year, I can’t help but feel it slipping, melting through my fingers, like reaching the last presents on Christmas morning. Nearly over for another year.