Bloody Snowblowers (cliche ridden pap)

I think I prefer the view from the window last night. I love snow, especially fresh clean snow. I love the twilight blue color the sky takes on when it is dark but the moonlight reflects silver. The fairy glitter of snow in a cloud around streetlights. The ebony shadows trees scratch on the virgin white.

It isn't really white. So calm, hearing the furnace blower kick on and watching the snow fall outside. No traffic--before the plows come through. Gods! they are so fast and harsh. Abrupt. They scare me.

There is a poetry exercise I love to give students. I take 'em outside (yeah..I am one of those teachers) and have them look at a cloud and ask how many colors they see. Make a list--can you see more than 20? Look closely, you can--Right now I look at the snow out the window and I see gray,three shades of blue, yellow,white, a little pink where the sun touches-- you get it.

Anywho--this morning the snowblowers are out. Loud stinky and oh so very helpful. Slicing straight paths through the heavy velvet, so everybody walking to campus can get there without getting snow in their socks. I hate that. when your snowpants ride up and a dose crystal cold wraps around your ankle and startles you out of your rut.