Snow

The snow floats down, fluffing the city to death.
Children and those at peace like sails
catch the surge, mastered giggle-like, and roll
into the snow across the wide, wide spaces
white; the wraith - lovely, inscrutable - calls.
Cars begin to sputter and curse; one by one
withered white they die
as buttoned, capped, and booted, you and I
go dancing, tromping, dancing by.
- Snow, by Mark A. Noll

We're getting another six to ten inches of snow today and tonight. D and I took Cassie for a walk after dinner; I definitely tromped. And I felt like dancing. Peaceful.