it’s misty gray but there is the new sound of a bubbling brook today. i know i may be alone, but i am going to miss the snow. it covers many distractions all in white and makes everything it comes in contact with beautiful. it gets walked all over and becomes speckled with dirt, losing its sparkle no different than us. it endures its transformation into a new season, becoming quite ugly before new life appears. then i remember the pure white radiance and hold onto that as I wait.