The time of night was ungodly, midnight, and it had come about that I had to clean the filthy kitchen of my house. A sigh of irritation and reluctance escaped me as I prepared to lug the reeking trash bag outside. In an agitated rush I put on a rather thin jacket and a pair of worn black sneakers. I took the bag and opened the door, stepping out into the frigid, snowy night. My shoes crunched the thin, perfect la
yer of snow under my feet, and that subtle sound alone sliced the nighttime's tranquility open. I came to the trash cans, and dumped the bag into one with another moan of annoyance.
I stood alone then in the yard, my breath making frosty patterns in the still, cold air. My anger and frustration simply melted away into nothingness, for I was held captive by the magnificence of the snow so beautiful. All around was the sort of silence snowfall brings, when all one truly hears is the gentle patter of the snow coming to rest on the ground with it's many likenesses. The noise of the highway was blocked away by the serenity that bloomed within and around me. Christmas lights glinted and shone with their numerous colors from the many houses on my street, illuminating my surroundings with cheer and love. I was held spellbound for a minute or two by the deep, touching beauteousness of that snowy night.
Through my flimsy, unzipped jacket I felt a steady, piercing cold, but I ignored it and enjoyed my minute of quiet joy and thought. But then my awful kitchen duties called me away, and my sneakers then crunched the snow again as I, slower this time, made my way back to the door. Then I entered the warm, welcoming kitchen and the bustle of work continued.
-This did happen last night, and it did feel that way. I felt the need to write about it. Please critique!-