In Traffic

Upon further consideration
(over the last five minutes)
I think I have decided
that my favorite type of
is not sunshine in the summer
is not the cacophony of spring showers
is not the crisp autumn air
not even all of that weather combined
compares (in my mind) to

cruising down a busy street
after a snow storm has blown through
leaving everything covered in white
but it's been long enough that
the streets are (relatively) clear and
drivers are still cautious
(not having gotten used to the wet roads)
and the medians are largely untouched,
blankets of white upon white

and the light ahead turns to amber,
then red,
and the sea of brake lights
as traffic slows to a crawl, to a stop
and I can see the people waiting for
the bus on the opposite corner
hugging themselves in the cold air
as I stretch out in the manufactured
heat of my truck cab

and I notice a single snowflake as it
dances past my side window
and I watch its descent to the black pavement
mission fulfilled
and then the traffic starts to move
and the halo around the green light
mirrors the halos of the street lights
which have just snapped on
as if on command by some nameless,
faceless street light authority
and it's a flurry of individual snowflakes now
wafting through the wake of traffic
falling from the sky, at first tentatively
then with seasoned purpose, seeking
the ground

and I smile, thinking
this is my favorite type of weather.

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