The White Stuff

The snow has continued to come, in fits and starts, over the past week. There are light bits that dance around in the air before plummeting to earth. Sometimes it appears as sharp, focused daggers that zero in towards the earth on a purposeful course. And occasionally, like this afternoon, great chunks of icy condensation billow about and pepper the world around us like pristine stitches in a very large blanket. I'm embracing the snow now and appreciative of the end effect when it settles onto the landscape and makes everything glittering and clean. It's silent like a thoughtful predator; powerful as the benevolent element that it is. If it can make Manhattan look like a wonderland, how can I not embrace it?