Snow All the Way Up - March 19 2026

 

Snow All the Way Up

March 19 2026

The snow falls straight down.

Not a whisper of wind

to upset its perfect symmetry.

It falls silently,

while muffling whatever sound

the slumbering night might make.

It falls steadily

and relentlessly

and seems to fill the air, 

as regally indifferent

as the weather gods

who can’t be bothered looking down;

blanketing the ground

in an even layer

that thickens as I watch.

As if the snow will never stop.

As if an endless sky 

was snow all the way up.

The flakes are fat and soft.

I stick out my tongue

and feel how lightly they land

how evanescent they are,

melting instantly 

with a cooling sensation

and slightly metallic taste.

My boots

leave a sharply etched impression

in this wet compressible snow,

leaving a record

of exactly where I went —

wandering off the path

then circling back

but never walking straight, 

the frequent pauses

when I was lost in thought,

and all the odd little tangents

when I got distracted

and stumbled off into the bush.

I could be easily tracked

if anyone really cared.

But the snow is falling fast,

and soon, my tracks will vanish

and I will have melted into the night;

snow, the great leveller,

evening over the world

as it steadily fills.