As the first snow of January comes whirling down, I snuggle into my reading chair with a cozy lap robe, a good book, and a cup of tea. Words spin across the page and leap into my imagination; glancing up, I catch glimpses of a white-flaked, wind-wafted winter waltz.
Time pirouettes by. . .
When the snow subsides and driveway, deck and sidewalks are dutifully cleared, I slip into the backyard to search our snow-swept hill for further traces of winter’s choreography.
A white-throated sparrow has left behind a delicate diagram of her latest exploratory movements.
In search of fallen seed, the raccoons perform their slow circle dance across the frozen floor of our shade garden.
Dressed in her drab winter leotard, a tiny goldfinch pauses at the bird bath to recall the golden fragments of a midsummer gavotte.
A white-tailed deer meets my gaze. She freezes, then arcs into an elegant arabesque and bounds away. . .
And my wild woodland heart dances after her.