A snow angel in the morning

Streaks of snow fall on my iPhone

It is snowing. Soft gentle flakes floating down in a night sky turning dark to light. I let Ellie out, shovel the walk and my neighbours too. I come in, move to the back door to let Ellie in and a thought floats through my mind as gentle as the snow settling on the branches of the pine tree outside my front door.

"You could make a snow angel," the thought whispers.

I laugh, brush it aside and call Ellie in to her breakfast.

But the thought persists. I measure it, taking stock of its prompt, calibrating the depth of its desire to let go, let loose, let playfulness rise.

I laugh again. I am still in my pajamas. Oh scandalous me. I shovelled the walk wearing nothing but my pj's under my big winter coat and boots!

I'm still laughing as I pile on my coat and hat, gloves and boots and traipse out the back door.

I can make a snow angel.

I can lie down looking up at the lightening sky. Feel the snow floating down upon my face. See the trees from below, feel the air above me.

I can make a snow angel.

And I do.

and I am laughing and feeling foolish and giddy and I don't care.

I am making a snow angel.

The sky breaks into day

Looking Up

My Snow Angel

Looking down at me looking up