The wind had died down yet the temperatures had dropped. Wrapped in her down-filled coat, fleece cagoule and studs clipped on her wool lined boots, she took her time walking from the Métro. Walking through the fresh fallen snow, felt like trudging through bushels of icing sugar…fluffy and white. She felt like a child again, kicking that fluff up and watching the weightless fluff spill over her boots.
Soft patches of ice hidden beneath the snow caught a few night walkers by surprise as they slipped; their bodies wobbling like circus clowns, yet refused to give in to gravity. “Ah, they were so young and agile”, she thought. She was quite pleased she had extra insurance to stay grounded on her walk home.
baby powder soft
pine’s Sunday’s best
© Tournesol ’16/01/14