Winter’s icy touch sends shivers down my spine. I stiffen as it infiltrates my barriers and lodges in the areas I didn’t sufficiently protect.
The blue sky stands in stark relief to the fraying blanket of glistening snow as it covers the debris associated with urban living
Shapes lurk beneath the mounds transforming the mundane into a wintery landscape bedecked in a thousand shades of grime
Sounds both simultaneously muffled and harsh become the peculiar language that results when hard and soft converge and form our winter wonderland
Sun glances off stalactites made of ice as they balance precariously from rooftops and fire escapes
We dodge beneath them in a game of Russian roulette reciting a quick prayer to the gods of winter that we be spared such an inglorious insult to our health and egos as to be the one felled by an errant piece of ice
Muttering to ourselves about hellfire not being made of snow and dreaming of sand castles crushed beneath bare toes