I am pulled outside, out the door, off the porch and into that patch in front of my house called the "yard";
I am walking in small circles and I'm saying or thinking or thinking I'm saying,
"What is this stuff, what is this stuff, whatisthisstuff, stuff?" even though I know it is snow;
so, I start thinking "why did it have to snow now? Of all times, why did it have to snow now?"
and my footprints are punching holes in the whiteness and I can see the grey and the black
and the dirty brown beneath and I start to feel better right away.