Snow

After pushing snow away from my front porch three times and the wind pushing it back, I let her have her way. I peeked out at her steady shower of snow, no longer caring when she would end. I decided to prepare myself for her subzero temperature, as I gathered up unfinished reading material. As quickly as I gathered them, was as quick as I fell asleep, chapters still unread.

Surprised that the room was still warm, I woke to a silence of no cars traveling the main street. The wind was no longer recovering the street, but my walks she left me with inches if not feet of snows. The trees were no longer bowing to her blows or the branches waving its bare arms. The smoking puffs of cloud passed overhead pass the bright sun.

A sea of drifted snow awaited my shovel for the fourth time. In other places ice packed hard snow would be a challenge. This time it would not take me only one trip to clear my walkway. It would take several trips this time as my back and my hands screamed pain and it's cold. And still the waves of snow laid immobile as I wearily moved to retreat back to the house to warm up once again. The beauty and power of snow.