I wrote this in my journal back in February while watching a massive amount of snow fall. It had all just melted the day before, leaving us hopeful that the brutal Winter might finally be letting up, all to dump feet of snow just as the last bit of old snow was sliding off rooftops and revealing cars that had been buried for weeks (mine included).
Mother Winter, you are merciless in your persistence
If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were cold
Just when we are sick of the dirty slush that hints at your surrender to Spring, you shower us with fluffy, serene snowflakes, the same romantic kind we were praying for two months ago at Christmas
It’s funny, when everything is buried under snow, it’s hard to remember what the town looks like without it all
Then, when it melts, it feels hard to believe that you are seeing things which were once invisible
When the Winter is long and melts are brief, watching everything become enveloped with white again feels so satisfying, so familiar
As if we couldn’t put our finger on what was needed to finish off the canvas, and then you waltzed in with the breeze and offered the perfect finishing touch, suddenly revealing a masterpiece