Back home, there’s snow,
and while I don’t miss the cold,
there’s a magic to snow
that is undeniable.
Not just its beauty,
which is real,
or the way it reflects
back to us light
or the potential for joy.
Snowmen will appear,
and maybe snow angels,
and the tracks of animals
we wouldn’t normally get to see.
But the other thing I love about snow
is the silence.
The way it insulates,
a blanket pulled up over the world.
Science explains the phenomenon,
that sound waves get caught
in the gaps between the arms
and dampen the sound before
it arrives in our ears.
It’s muted, softer,
like a spell has been cast on the world.
What I know
is this is how I understand this time,
how I have always understood this time.
That the seconds, minutes, hours
get caught as they travel to our minds,
bodies, and spirits.
Time takes longer,
lands more gently,
responds quietly to openness
and invitation.
It’s a spell, a kind of magic
this season.
Of waiting,
of hoping,
of preparing a way
for whatever is to come,
if only
we are ready
to receive
what it has to offer.