The snow is falling,
telling me to slow down.
Whispering faintly.
Words so faint that they only extend far enough
to touch my ears.
Granting me permission to
allow my mind to wander.
To stand in awe at the transformation of the landscape
which catches each singular flake as they dance down from above
and join the others to form a thick blanket of exquisite confines.
Out of the corner of my eye a flash of crimson interrupts the expanse
of pure white that fills my vision.
It darts quickly back and forth,
trilling heartily,
breaking the silence.
A reminder that all is not lost.