Waiting at the Bus Stop

Waiting at the bus stop

swaying and bobbing on my heels

moisture collecting with every breath

a warm scarf hugging my neck

my eyes scan the white, powdery sky

excitement electrifying my bones -

maybe today, I'll see snow!

The roar of the engine comes up the hill

and I tighten the straps upon my back,

breaks squeal and the yellow doors swing open

and I reach out to the railing, pausing momentarily

as my eyes widen upon the magical shimmer

on the metal surface -

the fractal white crystal of winter's first frost

greeting my naked hands with a sharp burst -

maybe today there won't be snow,

but at least I know it's on its way!