It came as if
It came as if the Earth called out in weary whispers, pored out its solution for a deep soul cleanse.
Ambushed by icicles, pelted by flurries.
Like the red button on an Etch-A-Sketch, the sky turned shades of gray on grey, opened wide, released its powdered flakes—quieting what was loud—blanketing what was gauche with fresh-start fairy dust.
The Earth, turns the dial and quiets the world anew.
Frigid gift wrapped in void of color monochrome.
Why would it not. How could it not.
Wise is the One who blankets us.
Quiets us and calms us.
We rest under its inconvenience.
Wait for the weight of worry to lift.
That we may lose our power. That we may be muffled by just a few inches of flakes.
Rest for the weary comes in the quiet, white, cold.
How inconvenient to be loved like this.