Something in this house is stirring in the midnight light. Something in the snow is fuel-pumped and wickedly-white. Hurricane blown and January sewn together. This canopy- this pearlescent cream. This carpeting, this finery of white precipitation precipitating the end of some whirling winter day. Wonder and wonder and where are my child’s eyes? Wonder and wheeze – the world is still waiting. I’ve got a world full of wishes and a brim full of hats. All the snow in the world could keep curling around me and all I’d see is rain transformed.