Mornings

Mornings after a snow are different
They are quieter, the accumulation is heavy
Like layers of blankets
On a cozy bed.
Heaters whir a meditative manta
That soothes and invites thoughts
Of shared warmth and hot coffee
As opposed to its air conditioning whine
That seems more about survival than relaxing.
People stay home after a snow,
The roar of traffic is absent,
Sirens are not needed, and the birds huddle quietly.
We walk, my dog and me, with the soft crunch of powder
Giving the winter sound that has me thinking
About mornings on the beach
When cool sand yields to bare feet and rhythmic waves
Take the place of humming heaters.
Either way, we are content.

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