Listening to the white

The branches bend and twist under the weight of the freshly fallen snow.

The frozen birdbath wears a top hat of white and each winter-dead twig is twice its size with heavy snow.

The bird feeder we just hung last week wears a thick layer of white frosting on the top, like an elegant wedding cake ready to be delivered.

Each little perch is covered with a blob of snow frosting that I hope Mr. Cardinal will just quickly flick away when he comes for breakfast.



Oh, I hope the wind doesn't come up for awhile. 

It's predicted. 

Heavy wind gusts that will threaten this haven of winter white today.

Even now, the wind comes in bursts and causes the snow covered branches to lose their white covering as an avalanche of snow falls, wind-beaten, to the ground to add another layer to the parked cars, sidewalks and streets.

The flakes that fall are small and delicate today, unlike the fat, heavy ones that splatted decidedly on our windshield last night.

How can such delicate, small flakes fall in such a way to make a winter landscape thick with beauty?

The white quiet beckons me to sit here at my window a while longer.

I'm safe and warm here.

I'm hidden from the cold, but wide open to what our neighborhood has transformed into today.