watching snow gently falling
               on the thick whiteness of what came before

snapping and crackling of kindling in the wood stove
                             clicking
                  clacking
                             keys on a keyboard
movement of the soft sleeve of my grey woolen sweater as I type

metallic        staccato     sounds              as the stove begins to heat up

wood creaks as I move in the old chair with the pale blue velvet seat
                        knowing a peculiar white cherub
                                        stares
                                 silently smiling
                                     at my back

fire gets hotter
           crackling subsides
now the steady quiet roar of the chimney

the falling snow looks like silence in motion