Snow day

So we've been in Manchester exactly month and we have snow. I carried my bike outside this morning to find the thinnest of coverings twinkling in the streetlight, just enough to make things a little treacherous.

At work I was issued with a set of these fabulous shoe 'snow chains', which felt a little weird to walk on to begin with, but I was very glad of them. Anyway, walking up a path I turned and saw that they were leaving these strange slightly delicate looking prints, rather as if a large bird had just hopped across the snow. And it reminded me of this poem, which I just had to go hunting for to share with you (nothing to do with snow, and I cannot find any info about the author).

traces, fine bird prints

above the tide line

do the grains of sand recall

compressing tight to make that shape

or loosening in the new arrangement?

even after waves, somewhere,

my cells remember how it was

your track etching

-- Lilian Mohin