I believed in simple miracles which made the more difficult easier to swallow. That first snowflake melted on my tongue, I became a gush of winter. Children thought I was a snowman but no, I was just a man in the snow. “Let’s build one then!”   They are wonderful and complex in their simplicity, children. One wonders at their rosy cheeks and warm noses, indifferent to discomfort at the prospect of creating Snow People.

 

“Wait first,” I tell them, “We must seek a blessing of Snow Angels.” I have plenty of time these days for slow memories as I kneel down in the deep fluff and flop over on my back. There are a host of oohs and aahs as I flap my arms and legs to create gown and wings. Small hands help me up and soon, indifferent to discomfort, I witness a fluttering of real angels, playing in the stuff of Gods.

 

Snow Angels was published by Apollo’s Lyre January 2004.