sleepy eyed i peer through an early dawn window watching countless white flakes come crashing down, falling to the ground in a stark thud of lightness where no one can hear. amazing how such a roar could be so silent. the snow captures the imagination as to where and how this energy comes and goes, falling, falling…. perhaps i shall return to the warmth of blankets and recapture a dream i can no longer remember.
the picture tells the story. always leaving my gloves behind. how many pairs i’ve paid for and lost, countless.[ i like that word countless so used it again.] not caring enough to go back and retrieve. the brown leather gloves fit perfectly and kept my hands warm. someone else will enjoy them now. i can already see myself going to buy another pair.