snow... a falling...

tuesday's poem from The Writer's Almanac seems to echo the state of affairs... the long-anticipated snow did arrive... dumping its soft crystals all over and stalling traffic... the scenery is a mixture of magnificent white, muddy grey, and haze. ... and it continues to snow...

Snow-Flakes

Out of the bosom of the Air,
    Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
    Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
        Silent, and soft, and slow
        Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
    Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
    In the white countenance confession,
        The troubled sky reveals
        The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
    Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair.
    Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
        Now whispered and revealed
        To wood and field.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow~

... i wonder if i might ski again before the whiteness disappears...