shared experience is a type of togetherness
Snow blows visibility low against wind whipping flakes into a dance, obscuring my window until houses appear as miniatures in wishfully shaken globes.
A plow bullies through, snowmobiles in pursuit. In the absence of buses, the day cascades by noughts. No breakfast rush. No frantic checklists. No elsewhere to be.
I have heat and light and pour warmth into a cup to sip, to sit and write my huddling neighbours, together in our frozen bubbles on a day cast in drifts.
2022 Jan 17 with 50 cm fresh snow
