snow job

It's been snowing for more than 24 hours now. Drifts outside the window are almost three feet high. Snow flakes at times the size of small leaves, at other times as fine as dandruff has blanketed the ground reducing my world to monotone colour. White ground, grey skies & brown trees bereft of leaves - spindly arms moving to the wind song in some ethereal dance. Even the evergreens are looking forlorn and defeated after 5 months of winter.

I ventured out briefly this morning for bread, milk and coffee. The tires thrummed eerily along the tracks in the road. Snow is an insulator and for the un-initiated the muffled sounds of silence can seem uncanny. You probably wouldn't hear a bus if you were ten feet from it - just the crunch of it's tires as they crush into the ice.

It is both peaceful and ominous. Driving is a challenge to say the least. The key to success is a feather touch. Like cutting a diamond, every action - steering, braking, accelerating is carried out with precision and smoothness. Not unlike fingering her on those days when she's extra sensitive. Always aware of the constant shifts and motions and each subtle movement. I still love winter. 20 years has not lost it's appeal, it's allure or it's enchantment. This winter there is a world of difference. This winter there is colour and sound. This year I have someone to share with me my childish enthusiasm over the falling snow and the falling temperatures. Press your bare breasts against the window again babe it's only -5C outside. It's your squeal that I miss.