Sometimes through the corner of an eye, or in a moment of freshness, we are surprised to find we have slipped into another realm, which is always here, but not always seen, or felt.
We have seen snow before. But this snow? This totally new, fresh, never seen before, never to come again, first snow? When we touch or breathe these little frozen clouds, these one of a kind crystals of dust, space and water, these particles of spirit, they melt. And their filaments of form dissolve in our very human warmth.
The first snow. Looking out my fifth floor apartment window I see what is for my eyes the first snow of this winter season. And quite unexpectedly it fills me with delight, and, to my surprise, a quiet astonishment. Because today something in my heart knows about the secret in snow.
This first snow, softly swirling and streaming down
in vertical, and angular sheets.
Natures lace curtains moving gently, in
different directions and rhythms, revealing
Slips of space
A sweet and silent symphony
When the snow is falling, softly falling, we are so close to everyone, to everything. Because we fall at once into a silent dance that can be felt only through the slivers of the snow curtain. And here is a soft song heard from within a snow fabric so gauzy thin it barely conceals the sound of other worlds. Here are the glimpses of past and present, and we know where we are. In this snow we are so close to those who have come before us. This snow is the frozen particles that have been formed of the space, water and dust of those we feel we have lost. And now, with this first snow, we touch them once again, until the warmth of our still beating hearts melts away this brief moment of contact. Nature has a way of tenderly reminding us that we cannot hold on to this form that is meant to dissolve.
Today's snow is gentle. And for this, I am grateful.