I left on two short errands: to the post office to mail bills; to Starbucks on the way home. When I left the trace of snow had melted, everything bare. Ten minutes later I'm in a snow storm that is sticking. I was afraid I might not make it home. But home I am, and now it stopped and it seems to be melting again. Strange.
The snow storm was beautiful while it lasted. Maybe that's the best kind -- fifteen minutes of beauty and melt.
"The struggle itself ... is enough to fill a man's heart." --Camus
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"Remarkable" (London Screenwriters Workshop)
Poetry and literary blogging now published at A WRITERLY RETIREMENT (hot link)
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