falling softly to the tune of a screaming guitar

just beyond my window snow falls softly--fluttering, dancing to the ground. like leaves falling on the stillest of days, each flake indecisively makes its way downward, to it's fate--at least for today--to melt under foot. in the back ground explosions in the sky plays over my borrowed radio. it's a perfect storm of sorts. like the beginning of the snow fall was choreographed with the song 'catastrophe and the cure.' beyond the growing haze of flakes a market full of vendors presses on in pursuit of the days wages, or at least enough to afford to eat their own fruits and vegetables at the end of the day. whereas i have the leisure of watching from behind glass, with a cup of tea between my fingers, theirs ply the trade, while voices cry out 'yi kuai, yi kuai, yi kuai.' it is of no beauty for snow to fall for them, that is the prerogative of someone looking out from a distance. it is a nuisance, one that can make the day more than miserable. not to mention, if the temperature drops too low it can ruin their stock. perhaps in a while i will take a walk in the mounting drifts of snow.