Reset

There is something about untrodden snow

In places where even the animals and the pine pollen

Have yet to mar the unbroken layer of white.

There are so many scars on the ground beneath-

Fallen trees and haphazard rocks,

Rotting bodies and leaves and debris.

The snow covers all the signs of struggle and time,

Allowing winter to work its alchemy on those surfaces.

An imperfect reset,

A slow polish waiting for the rain wash of spring.

Snow creates that brief moment of perfection before the disruption

I’m fond of both the perfection and the disruption.

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For more deceptive disruption, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

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