To Wake Up To White

Old man winter came

in the middle of the night

and danced his jig leaving a blanket of snow.

I left work, coat draped over my arm smelling spring in the air.

I crawled into bed thinking of spring

Six hours later,


heavy and sticky

perfect for building snowmen.

And I never saw one flake fall from the sky.

The snow just seemed to appear like magic.

And I feel as though I’ve missed out on something.

A grand event happened outside my window

and I hadn’t a clue.

I was too busy sleeping.

I wonder how often this has happened

where something curious,

or perplexing

or breathtakingly beautiful

has happened in my immediate vicinity,

and I was too involved in my own little world

to notice.

Until it was over.

And I was witness to the effect

and not the causation.


One thought on “To Wake Up To White

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