|
|
|
 |
it was perfect snow for footprints not too deep and sort of melted where you stepped, empty streets no one out, virgin expanses ahead and behind just our criss-crossing path like the floor markings of an old-time dance lesson woven strands are stronger than straight lines. sarah and i don't march lockstep side by side but we do meander in the same direction, leaving a lovely twisted trail behind |
|