Snow on the Beach

Hours from now, the now unadulterated slope will look dimpled and drudged. People like to feel fresh snow crunch beneath their boots. So old footprints are treated like landmines to avoid. I take one long savoring stare until I sense someone behind me. I want to be first. Quick, I beat him.

Crunch crunch. In some places the snow is deeper than my boots are tall. I feel a little childish for smiling like this. All around me sound is muffled. I lift my ear flap to see if the silence is just in my hat, but it isn’t. Across the sea, the Brooklyn shore looks like it has been wiped with gray water color- my vision too is muffled by the swirling snow. Crystals hit the water near my boots and float for a moment before they become water too. The waves have stolen much of the white from the beach, but between here and the boardwalk, only a trail of size 7 1/2 holes uncover the sand.

 

I included snow on beach in my 1000 Gifts List.

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