An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

See pure white Not an inch of ground uncovered Over miles and miles With no end in sight. It's cold outside So bundle up before stepping out the door. And make sure you're wearing hat and gloves! Flurries dart past your eyes Over your head and cling to your clothes Under your coat to melt on your skin Rivulets soak through fabric Look, children playing outside Even dogs are paddling like otters Tears of joy crystallize in ice Terrible wonderful shrieks of fun Each minute a wonderful memory Racing heartbeats during play. When will the storm let up Or will it stretch out for days? Revel in the magic of it all Dally in forgotten childhood.

Yellow light from the windows is quite deceptive giving the illusion of warmth. Outside the trees sway and the bushes bend under the weight of a winter wind. Leaves swirl in circles chasing each other in endless torment whipped up in a frenzy some manage to break away to tumble into the street and scattered by passing cars. It is ice, not snow not a spellbound wonderland the gray sheen of treachery clings to every surface glittering like jeweled mirrors foretelling disaster. Brown grass crunch underfoot dirt frozen solid, a dark crust harder than the stalest loaf of bread. Suspended in time the ants sleep within and dream of a long awaited spring.