The Virgin Beauty of Untouched Snow

I love the way the world stops when it snows.

As if it somehow those bursting clouds know we need a clean fresh slate to write upon.

All that ugliness that fell
 to the ground in thoughtless words has been covered up with fresh white powder as if it never existed. Think of the gift winter's magic could be if snow could actually erase the unnerving nastiness of noise left strewn about by voices in our world determined to unbalance the ordained equilibrium of the human race. 

Ah, but we are human.  

And those humans I know to be true of heart and integrity, full of hope and goodness, brave enough to silently mow down hatred with tied shoestrings of gentleness,  always tread brilliantly roughshod over roughness - even and especially in storms.

If I could blanket the world with a covering of newness in the form of snow - which seems quite holy to me - I would.

Save for the thick sheet of slippery sleet-delivered ice on the highway, today might just be the perfect way to enjoy a snowstorm. Big fluffy white sugar powdered flakes and less ice on the trees, I'm thinking we could hit the pause button and listen to the snow.

Let's disappear for awhile and pretend the world is clean.

and full of fresh born baby goodness

As far as my eyes can see there is nothing but untouched snow 

on top of untouched snow

on top of untouched snow

It's like the gift we give to each other when we decide to cover fault with a blanket of love
and love with a blanket of protection.

in the snow my footprints are clear

my vision unmarred and unmarried

to obstacles and stress

I only need worry about the depth

and breadth
 of the impression

I make

the direction I travel

and the words I choose

And that, my friends, is what freedom is all about.

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