Snow is…

feather-flakes spiraling through the air

mashed, broken, crumpled, crushed, miraculously whole flakes on my black gloves

a soft silent assault on the sleeping world

wet clumps falling–plop!–on my windshield as I drive under trees

a white coverlet under which roofs slumber

windblown powder on cheeks and in eyes

scrunch-squish-scrunch under my boots

crusty, ugly, dirty piles around the driveway

I love the changeablity of snow. How it appears in so many aspects, how it can be soft and hard, beautiful and ugly, many-textured, many-formed. How it transforms the world.

There are so many things that have variations, moods, shades and nuances. A tree changes through the seasons of the year. The sun changes as it climbs the sky and descends again. The moon waxes and wanes. The sea is changing and moody. And a person–well, a person can be delightful and exasperating and patient and frustrated and still and exuberant, all wrapped up in the same package.

What do you love and find inspiring, in all its variations?