A foot of snow is coming, they say,
But I know better. 
Dangerous conditions are afoot, they say, 
But I have experienced this before.
Facilities are closed tomorrow, they say.
Don’t go outside of your home, they say. 
But we plan to go regardless. 

When the day arrives, it is 35 degrees, just above freezing,
And instead of the crystalline beauty of new-fallen snow, 
We have slush. 
Slush teaches us that we cannot predict the future.
Slush teaches us that what once was beautiful
Can melt away,
Or maybe it was never beautiful in the first place.
It was always just slush – a dirty, sodden mess that no one wants.

And it falls to us to wade through the muck,
To wrap ourselves in protection against the cold rain falling
Into our lives and onto our heads,
To look for a little beauty in the dripping, drooping tree branches 
And hope that maybe tomorrow
There will be snow. 

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