murky magic

Picture Writing Challenge – Week 2

 photo snow_zps2de1ae73.jpg

It was the day after February 4th. The heavy snowfall from last night was reduced to a faint echo but heaps of white cotton candy were stuck on streets, trees and railings like precocious lovers. There were no bird songs, or a dash of color piercing the air, but the day went down in my memory for its spectacular simplicity of little details sprinkled all over.

A light winter’s minstrel greeted me, when I stepped out with bolted coat, wool stuffed ears and fingers deep-seated within over-sized pockets warming up to my body heat. However, my lingering eyes collected the splendor of monochromatic scenery – wanting to dig the foamy coverings on wooden benches and tracing the tracks of a vehicle far ahead in the mist. The leaves on trees shook slightly, shedding their frozen tears and the asphalt suffocated under the large cushions of snow with footprint scars all over. Everyone looked up, searching and waiting for solace of a mellow, lemon sunshine that seemed light years away.

Under this ceiling of gray, nebulous sky, I walked, hummed and shivered in pieces as my feet sunk and rose in the sand of snow creating a dull, crunching sound of powdered glass. The gelid morning made me hungry for a bonfire, the spicy smell of wood and its rich, warm cinders; the arid, dark lines against the white created a mesh of stinging images; the brisk wind whistled by again sending a message of its powerful, invisible presence – all of them simultaneously energizing and ebbing my mind of something deeper and meaningful.

A slight drizzle started by the time my marathon was about to be over. I longed for the whistle of a tea kettle in my apartment as I let out the smoke and breathed in electricity of whimsical wind – treading faster under a hood that collected a few drops over the tip of my nose, almost solidifying it. It was quite a vision to see the travelers on the road sharing the same longing of warmth – hastening on their way to escape the grim fury of this day.

When I reached my home, I stood still for a moment, letting my mind and body thaw to the colorful surroundings. I started the kettle and pulled the curtains away. The flames on the stove danced and my gaze carved its way beyond the window where dim light lurched on the frosted trees that embraced each other over the snow-clad street as if preserving their heat and comforting each other with crash courses on survival.

As mouthfuls of tea warmed my bones and guts – the jeweled branches, the misty skies and the blanketed roads drowned in the magical hibernation and the depraved and conservative season of winter carried all of us in its lap to a day closer towards a ripe, colorful harbinger of spring.


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