It snows on days when the Sky has something to say about peace and quiet. It snows when the air has turned cold but the warmth of the Stillness keeps the human heart from freezing over into emptiness.
It snows now, and in the quiet that comes with the falling whiteness, order fills my mind. The whiteness of the snow is the same color as the peace it brings.
The trees that stand still when the wind is not in movement, allow the tender white to cover their branches. Trees that would turn lush and green in summer now have donned a coat so full of stars that there is a new name to give to the Moment, a name not made from words for there is nothing to be offered by words to the Moment — it is a thing complete and in it, I am well.