Flop!

[rejectomorph]

The snow came back as I slept. I knew this even before I opened my curtains to reveal the re-whitened world. I woke to the sound of clumps falling from the branches onto the roof, like small, distant explosions. The intermittent rain has once again removed most of it from the trees, but the bare branches of the oaks are still outlined with white, and a bit clings to the dense foliage of the few firs nearby. I have spent the afternoon thinking how, a few thousand feet above my head, sunlight is gleaming on the more brilliant white of these clouds which roof my view with gray slate, obscuring the bright and vivid blue dome of day. I inhabit a dim, chilled world that resounds with trickling and the calls of persistent birds. I do not like the snow.