It fell in large,
fluffy clusters
and small, shiny dots
at a rate that was steady
steady and metered.
Light and flaky
it settled
spread--
spread across the land
the grass, the concrete, the asphalt
as if it's life's purpose was only this
no questions, no conflict
just there, just here, present.
I searched at my window
for a moment, a second of conflict
there was none
one steady, metered snow
falling, falling, falling.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
I see you, fully design specific obstacles for you knowing fully, the path is never straight.
Each sunny day, I jog downstairs with my lunch bag and sit at the same park bench in the courtyard. The one drenched in sunlight;
Every year I prep for our dinner of two, a tradition we built, just us two I used to float around the kitchen a zing
