Snowfall during Moonlight
January 04, 2003 4:54 a.m.
The new year has barely crept down into this valley, but the shadows of the past 19 already hang so thick that I can almost bring myself to believe that the newest will just perch on the peak of the mountain and peer sorrowfully down into this stagnant valley. The uncompromisingly sheer walls shut out much of the static from the rest of the world, but leave an eerie silence to fill the void. The crunch of un-shoveled snow is all I hear as I walk to the garage and then out to my car. Even the birds stay silent, as if winter is not only a season already lasting too long, but a mood that permeates every nook, cranny, and vale of our tiny pocket nestled in the mountains.I watch the sun pause on the crest of the easternmost mountains, pondering wether or not to light this seemingly forsaken space. Slowly, he ascends, and his rays reflect of the pristin white of the fields below, warming them not only with his heat, but with his promise of life that may yet be renewed. His visit is painfully brief. Few hours does he linger here... he leaves his daughter the moon to guard us each night. His reflections cool and distant, comfort my soul far more that his warm light. I feel the weight of the air and look skyward as the snowflakes begin to tumble recklessly downward, once again muffling the sound of life in the valley and leaving me with a strange, cold isolation that I have become so accustomed to.
rewind
- fast
forward
