The earth is covered with snow pearls, and everything has disappeared beneath a pearlescent blanket. This snow is not of a fairyland, but is in no way less gratifying to the eyes.
I trudge along the snow-laden lawn–first prints on fresh snow. The snow reflects the fractals of life, awakens memories of things wonderful, and desires deep I never knew or dreamt of.
The snow is still falling in a profound silence, politely begging a place upon the earth’s bosom.
And as for me, I can hear its silence.