It’s coming…. The meteorologist says it is. The thick blue scarf-like front to the west resembles an impermeable wall on the digital image. The sky is black with streetlights vainly trying to pierce the darkness, but it’s not here.
Will it snow?
January has been balmy this year with days that beg the young child to dig and the gardener to plant. Dogs frolic about like it is spring while cats mark their territory.
It is not winter. My face is not windburned. There isn’t a puddle next to the door left by wet boots. There isn’t a blanket of white or a pile of gray, dingy snow at the end of the road.
Is it part of a 100-year pattern or is it proof of global climate change? Should it be embraced and appreciated or seen as the end of an era and mourned?
I wait and watch. I wonder and wander, my tired thoughts begging for solace.
No comments:
Post a Comment