where the writers are
Snow Day
Snow Day

I love how it demands that we pay attention,
how we instantaneously rearrange our plans. 
I love how it transforms shades of gray,
bleaching out shadows, leaving nowhere to hide.  
I love how each footstep leaves an imprint,
making it easy to be found, if someone was looking.

I love how there is no ambivalence,
no illusions of warmth, no promise of color.
I love the momentary blindness it wields,
obliterating the ordinary, obscuring normal.
I love the silence it brings and how its frozen embrace,
can burn and ache if held too close, for too long.

I love how its beauty is in its impermanence,
its ability to appear and disappear unpredictably.
I love how it makes adults pretend to be fox and geese,
and gives atheists wings as they lay on its blanket.
I love how hard edges are made soft,
transforming the ugliest landscape, if only for a day.