Elliott

Slogging through the dead of winter with thick-bundled bodies and clouded breath and burning lungs, cautiously stepping from ice-free patch to ice-free patch, cursing the lazy grounds keepers for not putting out salt and the many cold and sunless days till March, we could use a little bright spot in all this gray. Perhaps a snowflake fluttering down just so, perfectly framing the universe for a hushed moment, or a cup of steaming hot chocolate cradled tenderly in grateful fingers, or even a friend flinging a playful snowball across our grumbling brows.