Deep & Crisp & Even...

Midnight, or a little after, commuting home on the penultimate train. Step off the train into soft gentle snow.

Four inches of fresh snow - where did it all come from? Now there's a philosophical question! Up on the gantry bridge we are a humble few that turn left and head down to the woods, instead of towards the lights of the town. And the farther the trail goes the few tracks are left to follow.

Now just two. Each footprint , hard pressed and icy, ringed around with white, preserves their passing. How beautiful the trees.. every bough anointed white. The woods edge is silent and mysterious - the darkness among the trees a contrast to the sodium brightness reflecting from the snow clad road below.

White snow, a blank canvas... a finger the artists only tool. An ephemeral creation - a thought, frozen in time.