The Lightness of Being

We are mad with the lunacy
of ecstatic joy as the freedom to
re-experience the discoveries of
childhood envelop us while we 
shriek with laughter, wallowing
in the soft downy depths of a
snowfall whose magical dimensions
eclipsed by far the forecasting of
solemn weather experts, our
high-top boots filling with snow,
our balance challenged by its
depths, our eyes ablaze with
the reflection of the afternoon sun
glancing through the laden snow
bending boughs low. We meander
and pause, our two small dogs
in the depressions our boots create
vaguely where the trails should
be, on the plush of the snow-bedecked 
familiarity of the forest floor.