When this all began

Swirling from east to north - no matter where I turn the flakes accumulate on my hair, my hat, my jacket, my backpack - I look out at a speckled world, see the shadows of the falling on the fallen by the lone streetlight. I am warmly cold, choosing the empty streets devoid of the profane mundane - gas stations, classrooms, streetlights - not many are out - are those few silent respectfully, as I? It's only been falling for an hour, a welcome surprise upon trudging up the stairs from the bright classroom, lugging tables, adjusting inputs, extra class that no one wanted yet everyone enjoyed - I come out and up last, lights off, pushing the heavy door, wondering at the ice on the steps, wishing for better shoes and then curious at the stillness, the calm. It fall and quells sound, sight, movement, the cars are slower the buses near silent and I feel as if it is all, momentarily, mine.