This morning, I sat and watched the snow fall against the backdrop of the neighbor's brick house.
It started out, just a few small flakes, barely visible.
Then it was big, thick flakes, plopping down hard.
It felt good just to watch, my eyes trying to decide whether to track individual patches as they fell, or to take in all the movement as a whole.
I felt like a poet.
They tapered off, almost stopped, and for a moment I felt lonely.
They started again, inviting me to come with them.
At that, my own tears started to flow, as I felt the kinship with this show of nature
Silently forceful
Haphazard and non-uniform
On no one's schedule but its own.
Natural beauty
Singing its own song of praise
Created just for now.
