Waiting for Snow

Rather than pull the blinds

to shut the frozen front out

I sit. Waiting. For first flakes.

Moving to the kitchen 

busying the knife with chop

Onions. Garlic. Spice.

Out the window, birds fly

to evergreen perch 

as the first snow finally falls.

Snow suspends time and 

blankets faded summer growths

in winter’s warmth.

Quiet stills street sounds as

traffic moves to busier streets

before the snow plows. 

Glad to be in flannel still

I hide behind heavy clouds

like winter’s first full moon.

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