We have reached the tail end of a moderate snowstorm during which it has been unusually, bitterly cold, with highs of -6F, although it is currently 5F.
Things are winding down, the powder is heaped in piles feet tall on every corner. Front end loaders fill dump trucks with snow, which then carry it to its final destination - the mighty St. Lawrence.
In this deep, quiet, windless cold, the mirrorlike flakes drift slowly to their destinations, reflecting flashes of city light.
I imagine their descent, their view of snowbound Montreal from thousands of feet up, the city flawless and twinkling below for long minutes during the gentle journey. They never have to see the dirt, the hassle, never hear the arguments or the politics. It's all hidden, muted within walls - beyond and below the ken of snowflakes. Just drift. Just let gravity be the guide.
