Courtesy of brenkee @ pixabay.com
I wish they’d come out of their cabin. I wish they’d frolic in my flurries and my flakes. I don’t mind if I get all clumpy and lumpy.
I mean it. I wouldn’t mind.But on some level, I do. Because they don’t like the cold. And they don’t like me.
They don’t like me because I”m always cold. And I can’t change that. There’s no such thing as warm snow.
Or is that my brother? Is that Rain?
But even he gets cold. So why do people like to go out when he’s out more?
Maybe it’s ’cause he taps on their windows? Should I try tapping on their windows?
I’ll tap on their windows.
Yes! Yes, they’re looking at me now!
But… wait. Now they’re frowning.
No! No! Don’t close the wind–
He closed the window. He’s just like my brother Rain. He doesn’t want to face the fact that I’m prettier than him and more people like me than him.
Now the two in the cabin seem to be talking about staying longer. Hoping they have enough food to last them through the weekend. If not, they’re going to have to shovel through the blanket I gave them.
Which they don’t seem to happy about.
But what does that mean for me? I need to keep falling. It’s my time of year. It’s the only time I get to be here. It’s the only time they get to see me. They should see me. They should come outside.
Or am I too small? Too fluffy? Too weak?