Year End

The snow is accumulating.
It looks airbrushed where it covers moved snow.
My front slope below my house and above fifth street resembles a paused rolling boil.
Pathways are beginning to look like a maze.
A hedgerow in white.

Two roof lines meet in a dense and dangerous collision.
The thick mass of ice underneath snow, hovers in space.
As the snow creeps in a slow slide the fresh layers on top meet with the melt from the heat of my house.
Stalactite spikes and tails drip.
The spikes curl and point stiff fingers at me as I stare from behind the window.

The snow and ice seem suspended in time.
A sharp contrast to the rush of end of days at year end.
Each day comes quickly to a close and fades into the background.
Beautiful glare.
I wince as I gaze out the window.
Searching, reading, writing to find where the year has gone.