The Temperature of a Snowy Morning
A morning piled pure white; the heart that was heavy until yesterday quietly settles. A day for wanting to send a brief hello to someone under the same sky. It's fine if there's no answer. Slowly, the way snow piles up, that feeling too will reach them.
Snow
While shoveling snow I stopped without meaning to and looked at the snow on the roof of a car parked by the road. My fingertips stung, but I left it as it was. Given time, it will melt on its own.
Now that I've heard it's all right not to answer, it's a morning when the snow crunching underfoot sounds all the clearer.
I watched a sparrow leave grass-seed marks across the snow. Those footprints ran on briefly, like breath turning to steam, and then broke off.
Standing where the footprints in the snow broke off, I watched the wind roll new grass seeds across them.