Hoarfrost

northern exposures

3 degrees. Snow depth 4 inches.

The air is dry but fog comes off the river, a saturated cloud snaking its way inland. It envelops stones, limbs, leaves much colder than itself, frosts them all. When the fog comes, it comes  in the early mornings. Sometimes it already inhabits the woods as I walk to school, moving among the shadowy trees, obscuring them and imposing silence on the world. And if we are fortunate and sunny skies follow the morning, the jewel-encrusted world glistens in splendor. The sight takes my breath away.

Advertisements

Comments welcome!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s