Winter's Thief

A nimble thief descends from the sky, breaking free of its confinement. It steals away the sound as it falls to the ground. It restrains any noise, holding it hostage between the infinitesimal flakes that form a white blanket laid gently across every surface. A clever coating that muffles and mutes the world.

Harsh sounds instantly become hushed and docile, losing their strength. The visceral cries of the coyotes cut through the silence like a dulled knife, rather than a sharpened blade. The screech of a snowy owl is caught in the net of a skift. The scrape of shovels against asphalt softens, no longer aggressively abrasive. The shouts of children are scuttled in ice crystals. The drone of cars and trucks dampens as the vehicles remain sequestered in their temporary resting places.

But the snow is just a liberator mistaken as a thief. Its robbery is an act of charity, an attempt to honor the world in its intended natural state. It encourages us to appreciate the subtle sounds without the contamination of civilization. The flutter of feathers and flapping of wings. The rustle of tree branches in a gentle wind. The skitter of squirrels in search of a winter's bounty. The marching of deer across a burbling stream. The knocking of a woodpecker off in the distance.

All the sounds lost to human existence come back to life in the snow, a master of pulling back the curtain and showing us how the world was meant to be.