The morning air delivered its letters with stamps that glowed.
The snow shone and all burdens lightened—a kilo weighed just 700 grams.
The sun was high over the ice hovering on the spot both warm and cold.
The wind came out gently as if it were pushing a pram.
Families came out, they saw open sky for the first time in ages.
We found ourselves in the first chapter of a very gripping story.
The sunshine stuck to all the fur caps like pollen on bees
and the sunshine stuck to the name WINTER and stayed there till winter was over.
A still life of logs on the snow made me thoughtful. I asked them:
“Are you coming along to my childhood?” They answered “Yes.”
In among the copses there was a murmuring of words in a new language:
the vowels were blue sky and the consonants were black twigs and the speech was soft over the snow.
But the jet plane curtsying in its skirts of noise
made the silence on earth even stronger.