Weird Weather

  I had to brush a thin layer of snow off the windows of my vehicle before I traveled home from work today. The snow had sifted down throughout the afternoon and the tree limbs were gently powdered.  The evergreens looked especially enchanting.  
 
 As I approached the edge of town, I noticed the hills ahead of me were dark with falling snow.  A few snowflakes hit the windshield, as I drove into the storm. It was a wet snow, melting quickly, and leaving the traffic lights glistening jewel-like on the pavement, as if an emerald rain shower had just passed through.
  I turned left.  Up over the hill I went, noticing that the cemetery was a black-and-white tintype, dark tombstone crosses against a snowy hillside.

  Cresting the hill, I am suddenly engulfed in a swirling world of white. It plasters the windshield and encroaches upon the borders of the road. It thickens the air, blotting out noise, surrounding and isolating me until I am only a miniscule satellite of warmth, lost in a distant galaxy. 
At the very least, a white hole.

 I love driving in snow. Ordinary substance is translated into ethereal other-worldliness. 
  And then it stopped. It was gone. No slackening, or thinning of flakes. I had simply brushed through the beaded curtain.
  I was disappointed, but intrigued.
 
  As I came along the ridge, it started to snow again, more gently this time, and rounding a corner I caught a glimpse of the sunset.
  I don't think I've ever watched a sunset quite like that, muted pink and gold, the air filled with tiny, nearly iridescent flakes. It reminded me of a haiku that I like. Here 'tis.

Butterflies, dancing through falling snow!
What a wonderful sight it would be! 
 -Haiku, Demaru