Snow falls like a million little reflectors and shows the shape and form of light, it gives the air, once thin, such volume and makes it cold enough to cut through. You can feel it press against your skin and it’s a good feeling if you decide it is. I feel like year after year there’s less and less of it. Snow, I mean. It still gets cold and the sun sets before dinner. I like how the cold makes warm rooms even warmer. I like the knocks of radiators and wood burning fireplaces, though there’s less of those, every year, too. It’s alright I suppose, things change and change over again, that eternal quality isn’t only reserved for seasons, the things you cherish are subject to the selfsame forces and they wilt and dry and blow tumbling away leaving bits behind that bloom into new and varied things. New things to cherish and warm and blow heat into and from that warmth you can look through the glass blurred with frost and see the shape and form of light again and remember the thin cold blanket of air. I hope it snows a lot this year
.