It's early morning, and the winter brown earth has been awakened by white.
As I sit, looking through the window of my suburban home, all is still.
The only movement, that of the softly falling snow.
Quiet, peaceful; serene.
I imagine this scene through the window of a small, rustic cabin -
no threat of a disturbance from cars, busses; snow plows.
The only noise, the occasional snap of a broken tree limb.
Or, the crackle of flames, from a warming fire.
The refrigerator hums, and I quickly come to.
As I sit, looking through the window of my suburban home, all is still.
I could stare out at the snow for hours, or for however long time will allow.
