Archive for January, 2002

Remembering the Snow

Tuesday, January 1st, 2002

The night was so bright.
The sky was so black that it made the snow shine brighter than day.
Each steamy exhale was the only thing stopping the eyes from freezing.
Every breath of icy clarity was a charge in the soul, a spark in the heart.
We walked down the street of the residential neighborhood.
The occasional streetlight cast the outline of shadows on the snow.
The streets were plowed, but we still walked with an air of caution.
Was it the street that made us cautious?
We escaped the reach of the streetlight and the dark was still so bright.
I turned to face the center of the street and spread my arms.
I was flying.
Gently, I landed on my back in a tall snowdrift on the side of the street.
The crystalline dust landed on my face and melted to diamond droplet stars on my lashes.
You tossed your arms back and landed next to me.
The dust settled and we lay there, stayed where it was bright in the night.
As I lay, I scooped a handful of snow and dropped in your glove that was near mine.
I heard the snow move as you smiled.
(falling 3b)