Thursday, December 20, 2007

It has snowed every morning since I returned home. Fat, white flakes like bleached fish food tumbling down. The air is thick with them, and the water in our fishbowl icy. It fogs the sky so we cannot see out, only grey spattered with white.

Passing through the glass, the cold radiates in. It claims the air within its reach by coating the floors with an invisible chill.

Outside my window, where the snow has yet to cover, grass and dirt are visible--the remnants of an autumn that left months ago.

It will be three more months until Spring.

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