Expectations had budbursts emerging in the spring—some months away.

Instead, an angel in snow has arisen whence yesterday’s snow angel did lay.

Should she be offered hand and knit hat as warmthful, welcoming greet?

Or, is a call to the local ghostbuster merited regarding never-before-seen feat?

Her legs are notably numb, but I believe she can be finessed onto the sled.

If she has wings, they may aid race for fleece blanket instead of snow for bed.

Ah, she has picked for me twig of iced brush as tchotchke of saving grace.

Morrow, both shall awake to windowed sun rather than weathery greys. ; )