View From the Bus Stop

What? More snow? This week's snow looked like a child's drawing: flurries of absurdly exaggerated flakes, so big you could almost discern the shape of each one as it drifted down. Feathery whiteness piled up on trees and lawns but did not stick to the sidewalks. Through the glass of the bus shelter, I could admire the laden branches. Two hours later, the sun came out and by five o'clock, all trees were bare again. This may be one of the best kinds of snow; beautiful, but requiring no shoveling.