Anybody speak Inuit?


The birds were not on strike, and the food we put out during the winter makes our balcony popular with the avian population.
Friday afternoon I finished classes early, and the snow was just enough to crowd the sidewalks with past footsteps.
The crystals are sticky, and outline everything, each twig on a naked tree, each spoke of a parked bicycle, and the cold figures of the War Memorial in our town.
I got home about 2:00, put on the kettle for a cup of tea, and turned to see the first flakes falling.
By rush hour several inches had fallen, burying the cocosnolt in legitimate powder, and the radio reported 1,200 kilometersof traffic jam. That’s about three times the width of Belgium.
But I take the train am in love with the world, so to me it’s all coming up roses, strung with newly improved spiderwebs.