Winters Fest

Driving at dusk through the patchwork of snow and ice I feel both the warmth of my heater and the cold that my eyes absorb from the road ahead. We are one third our way through winter. I am already weary of wearing layer upon layer.

Suddenly the wind comes rushing in front of me, sweeping snow up from the ground and swirls her around in an ethereal dance. Once to the other side of the street, another follows. To the side a river runs parallel and lively ripples of current splash onto snow capped stones. I notice evergreen trees laden with snow are bowing their branches in reverence and gratitude, perhaps for being clothed, while barren trees show off their gallantry with ice that clings.

As I turn with the winding curve the sun casts its brilliant light on all, showing off a glittering performance. I smile and think, this is winter, it is not weary, it is celebrating. It is its own season. I should celebrate it also. Yes, it is freezing cold, but I can endure while it lives.

I see winter dance
A performance just for me
Season’s interlude