snow day

From my cozy place in front of the fire I watch the snow fall. They are small flakes, difficult to see against the backdrop of naked tree tops and a great white sky. Small as they be, they fall together, each flake joining hands with another to cover the world.

The landscape is decorated in a frosty white. Every still object wears a top hat, proud and tall. Pine boughs dip low under the weight. Tree branches shed their covering as the wind gusts through, snow falling to the ground in a blast of icy smoke.

I do not feel the chill from here. It is warm and inviting beside the golden, dancing flames and I find myself repeatedly drawn back to this spot as the day goes on. As I type, my charges are otherwise occupied and I relish the sweetness of the moments that I can call my own.

In the stillness, I hear the swell of a bird song. Cheery, warbly notes sung back at the small flakes which land on a world that longs for spring. Though I could not see the bird in song, I well imagined his breast puffed out in defiance at the blast of winter, his head high, his little heart overflowing in praise. I smile at his courage his strength, though he is small.

Small flakes gather on the driveway that I helped to shovel at 5:30 a.m., making invisible the tracks that tell the story of the early morning. Cars and people, each on their separate paths, in the snowy dark hours of the early day. I watched them go, feeling a twinge of sorrow to be left behind. Yet, for the two sleepers who dreamed away under cozy blankets, I was needed.

Just one me, small yet needed. Just one in the millions who walk this earth. Insignificant? Not if I learn from the smallish snowflakes who do not seem to demand much, yet fulfill their purpose alongside their neighbor. I can hardly imagine a snowflake using their journey to compare themselves. "Maybe if I was shaped like that flake, I would enjoy this trip down." "Maybe if I was over there, instead of over here, things would be different." "What good can I do? Just one little flake with fears and flaws?" Their journey is not long, not worth wasting. Neither is mine.