of sand and snowglobes

music to make you happy: chamomile, royal wood

overnight, someone built a gentle snowglobe around the small city. when i woke up monday morning, there were fat snowflakes drifting everywhere, catching in buttonholes and eyelashes and mittens. i tried to blow snow off the tip of my nose and it melted there instead. the glass sky was so close and curved that i talked softly, careful of the gathering echoes. instead of going to the library, i went on a point pleasant walk because visiting the ocean was more important than reading about it. on the way there, i listened to the mix cd i've sent mum (blossoms wait for lonely hands) and on the way back, i played the one michelle made for me (songs to fill a wanderer's notebook). the foggy sea looked just like neverending sky. i tightrope-walked along the neat edge of land, admiring the salt smells and blue-rimmed musselshells. they filled up so perfectly with snow.
then i went home and sent letters to all my loves.