The View From Here



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Snow makes everything soft.  The earth looks like a body laying under a blanket; sharp elbow and knees are smoothed into bell curves.  The headlights of an oncoming car are gently diffused out amongst the falling snowflakes and the fallen snowflakes. 
The colder it gets, the closer the smokers creep towards the building, as if it were a dragon whose heat would reach them only if they were closer to the doors. 
Snow turns the ground into the endless pages of a new notebook,
waiting to be written upon. 
First, the snow plows and the salt trucks trace out the big lines: the roads. 
Then people shovel their driveways and sidewalks, saying "This is where I walk." 
And everywhere we go footprints tell the tale of where we have been. 
So we've written across the pages of the world, before the white paper disappears with the gaze of the sun. 
7/16/2012 12:52:21

nice post


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