My dog buries her face in it.
My car remembers her fierce way of plowing through.
My feet feel the crunch and my eyes squinch in the white.
My daughter from Denver wrote a text that told me that she woke up to white there on Sunday and some part of her expected the sound of my slippers on the landing and the proclamation that Santa had arrived during the night.
All is calm and all is bright. Plans are thwarted, hustle cancelled and brought along with the snow is reminder of the great rhythm of the cosmos that rocks us yet and always.
I am the young snow-suited and snow-munching child in the midst of snow globe beauty.
The world is mitten-licking good.