{I actually just started writing again when I have a quiet Sunday Morning before everyone is out of bed. I just wrote this March 1. I was walking out to get the newspaper and I was so moved by God that I had to write it down.}

Not as noisy as clumsy rain.

Snow...slow flakes somehow maze their way down to the blanket of brittle autumn leaves resting below.

Upon their arrival, the ground awakens with sound.

Music.

A welcome surprise on what most would call a dreary winter's day.

Only most.

For some like myself, just an opportunity for another kind of beautiful.

© Kenda Cacciaguida