In Traffic

Upon further consideration
     (over the last five minutes)
I think I have decided
     that my favorite type of
          weather
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
               again
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.