(stream of consciousness post)
such a wonderous event when you are a kid, juxtaposed with now, the anxiety, the high drama, the sudden invasion of the “bomb cyclones” and “polar vortices“, naming every… single.. storm, the dilemma of travel, of cars, of roads, of brine and all the whirlwind things that haunt the mind on a day where flakes are falling, forecast is gnawing, on the mind, on the airwaves, when, somewhere, in the ether of things, is lost, the miraculous reality, well, the scientific reality, but still the stark beauty, the imagination, the combination, the consequence of dna, falling flakes, not a one nearly the same, if only you were to look, to examine, look each flake in the face, to see that new creation, just birthed from a cloud imagination, a flurry, a hurry, gravity – the reaper, pulling down, until enough can cover the ground to sustain a little breath longer, a benevolent army, no, an oblivious wonder, floating down on to all things great and small, regardless of stature, age, or matter, the only matter is a fact of, an equal opportunity cover, a blanket of wonder, so pure for a time, a moment, a snapshot, a thin film to sheet to a blanket to be seen on all surround.
Shades of My Garden 