(Written after the snow storm on Friday)

Someone spilled a salt shaker in heaven

And now it’s lining the sills

And drifting the lanes

And we are plunged into a snow globe world again.

 

Children walk home backward,

Pushing stubborn against a merciless wind

Clapping red hands over red ears,

Bravely surviving till home welcomes them.

 

Dark settles in up over our heads,

Tucking deep into the corners,

Whistling fearfully round the eaves,

The temperature drops, the roads become slick.

No one dares to venture out.

 

Except one.

One freed.

Freed from the rigid routine

Of domesticated life.

Freed from the sweltering heat

Of an indoor world.

 

He is spotted, bounding, effortlessly,

Over the frozen wasteland,

Fields and streets,

Snowflakes falling heavy,

Blurring our vision,

But not his.

He darts round a yielding car and just doesn’t stop.

Legs churning,

Squelched energy releasing,

More crowding up to take its place,

Blue eyes alight,

Complete in his element,

Running.

What he was made for.

The husky.

Triumphant.

No fear in this one.

No disdain for the storm.

Delight abounding.

Full tilt.

Free.

Triumphant liberty.