FIRST SNOW

When the First Snow came, it came softly. The first flakes fell determinedly, but melted on contact with the warm pavement. The weatherman said "a couple of inches" and we all thought "just slush and puddles."

Around twelve o'clock the First Snow's joke became clear. Stragglers from Saturday night parties found the way home quietly romantic, streetlights acknowledging in amused yellow beams that they, too knew the joke. The First Snowmen were built after the First Snowfights, and snow angel-makers stripped off wet jeans to slide into warmer repose.

The joke lasted but a short while Sunday morning. Early risers smiled at brunch, laughed while the ploughs and shovels, skis and boots, tires and sneakers shoved and pulled at the First Snow. Trees split and bushes collapsed in muted cracking and the initial wonder of the First Snow changed to laughter and smiles at the silent white joke.