


| Like smoke, the clouds drifted across the sky, and the sky was as indigo as could be – The moon was gold as a Spanish doubloon, and stars flitted like fish in the sea. Had I not looked down to the snow for bearing, where chips of ice reflected the light, and the shadows of trees were sharpened silhouettes against this most perfect white, I would have been drawn up into that sea to plumb the depths of that endless blue – to follow schools of stars, or dance the tides; to be free to be what I want to do. |
| Snowfall in Washington By Reneé Dodds |