fragile weather

this morning leapt immediately from bed & then quickly reconsidered & crept back in as if i knew what was coming, as if i could feel the day ahead. last night the weatherman promised me snow but the window showed otherwise. i took my time getting out the door & found fat feathers gliding down the hill. i tried to shoot some with my camera but i couldn't catch a single one. as i stood waiting for the delinquent bus beneath its demure shelter, i kept holding out my wool jacketed arm, letting flakes land on its dark blue sleeve like the ghosts of butterflies poisoned by pollution. across the street two young guys smoked at a sidewalk table beneath a cafe's awning. i so much wanted to skip work & join them, sipping tea until the butterflies died again.