I love fresh snow
I love how it tickles my nose and
falls softly
(I wish I could fall softly)
Often I’ll look up in those moments
To the bright grey sky
Trying to tell me it’s not a black and white kind of day
And in those moments I feel
sewed into the fabric of the sky
I am connected to the cold beautiful flakes
They too, look all the same from afar,
but up
close
They are unique—they tell their own story
Okay. Cliché.
But sometimes the clearly cliché is the truth we avoid.
Sunrise Thoughts 