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.
❄
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