there's a crunch to it

like walking on gravel but softer

a gentle sort of solid

and it's cold

freezing, literally

flakes of it kiss

your raw cheeks and it's

almost warm

the way it clings to

your eyelashes

your lips get chapped

just standing there

I've never seen a blizzard

or a blanket ten inches thick

but I know how it smells

like lilac rain and marble

and I've seen it cover up

the ugly things

fresh fallen snow

is the purest thing you can

imagine experiencing

virgin in its sparkle

the sun hits it and

the ground glows

as if star dust has touched down

as if the whole world

were waiting for

your fingertips to caress

its surface

Tiny white diamonds fall from the sky

Sparkling

Laying down

forming blankets

Which coat the land and trees in beauty

Hanging silently

Footsteps squeak and crunch beneath you

As you disturb its surface

Leaving a trail wherever you go

That is when you know

You can grab a handful

Make it into a ball

And throw it at your friends

Or

If you are nicer

Grab a sled

And sail down the hillsides

An endless supply of fun

The wind can be brutal though

cold

like standing in a freezer with an air conditioner on full blast as you taste below zero (Fahrenheit)

And when you come inside

Fingers and toes tingling and numb

Cheeks and nose kissed with blush

You will learn

Cold has a distinct smell

Which is sort of sweet

An overwhelming sense of joy fills my body when my eyes rest upon the sight of the world around me tucked under a blanket of white. An unspoken message is received from the scene. No School.

I step outside to test the freshly fallen flakes. The chill air bites my arms and cheeks, but I welcome the sensation warmly. My head tilts back and I slip my tongue past my lips, providing a landing pad for the plummeting plumps of snow. Sugary crystals gently kiss my lashes, and I close my eyes, soaking in the moment with a feeling of bliss.

Hours of excitement follow the first step into the pale wonderland. Packing, throwing, shaping, rolling. Overlapping trails from various objects crisscross through the chilly ground. Feeling begins to leave my toes and fingers. Gradually the loss creeps into my hands, my legs, my lungs. The pain from the biting cold begins to outweigh the fun.

I abandon the now melting piles of flakes, grateful for the memories I made today and eager for those I will make tomorrow.

You expect a winter wonderland but instead you get large chunks of ice; dirt mixed in along with grass and a few other questionable things.

You expect a breathtaking sight but some sides are thinner than others, uneven and sloppy. Wild animals make their mark as they pass through your yard at night; you never knew that raccoon hung out in your garage, did you?

You expect snowballs and snowmen but there's hardly enough snow for that and it won't stick together anyway.

The cold is overwhelming and makes doing anything outside of the house a true difficulty.

But it can be beautiful.

It can be breathtaking and endless and calming and peaceful and amazing and perfect.

She can be beautiful

and fun to play with

Until she gets under your sleeve

and nibbles your wrist with

tiny lipless mouths

When she melts, the allure is over...

her taste grows tepid,

her shape allays,

the endless possibilities fall

into inevitable puddles

She can be beautiful still, though,

even after the playtimes,

even when greyed and gravelly

But only if you're

used to her

Only if you

loved her all along