Snowing Stories

Sunday night was a dull pit of dread and disappointment.
With hair washed, uniform ready,
and lunchboxes reclaimed from the back of the cupboard
where Christmas had pushed them
to the back of our minds,
we set our alarms.

But not for this.

Snow to the top of the doorframe!
Not even the doorstep
had seen white like this before.
All at once,
Monday morning was ours.
With a speed that this day rarely encountered,
we were out!
Booted and bobbled,
we fell into the winter pages of our dreams.
We were Moomintroll,
Aslan and Tumnus,
Gerda and Kay,
flying, rolling,
muffled in freedom and frozen delight.
The blanketed world was ours.
Squeaking and scrunching,
rosy and numb,
we found ourselves at the top of the hill.
The whole county was smothered.
The fields were silent.
We were alone with our breath.

Then my sister lowered her scarf
and
whispered,
The wolves are running!

Oh!

That day!