Jane Jago’s Drabbles – Four Hundred and Seventeen

Snow. As white as a silken sheet. Falling from the sky in silence. Landing on my shoulders like fairy kisses. I catch flakes on my tongue glorying in their cold purity. 

Throwing my arms wide, I dance in the moonlight whirling and twisting with my feet making the complicated patterns of the ballet I have known all my life. 

How good it feels to be young again and dance in the falling snow without the pain of twisted limbs. I laugh for joy and look behind me at the virgin snow.

No footprints?

Then I understand. And dance some more…

©️jj 2020

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