My eyes drift to the window: fresh snow, a white crust awaiting a christening of boot prints.
‘Are you listening, Daniel?’ singsongs Dad.
Without another thought, the door’s ajar and I’m slipping into wellies, the breeze skipping snowflakes across the kitchen floor.
Dad’s voice – bass becoming alto – calls ‘Where are you going?’
Do I stay for the lecture? Or snap that crisp shell of ice, weight pushing me onwards through the downy cushion until frost hugs me up to my knees?
Coat forgotten, I plunge into knife-sharp air.
I leave Dad to prepare his next sermon – the scold’s opera.
I rather enjoyed the challenge of Micro Bookends the other week – so much so I went back for another bash! Here is one of my attempts – first word SOAP, last OPERA and the photo was a snowy doorstep and absolutely nothing like the picture I’ve chosen above.
It’s actually another snowflaky post and it WILL be here, cos I’ve already scheduled it.