Pink Faux Fur Skies

Have you ever noticed the sky at night in Hamilton when it snows?

It turns pink and has the texture of faux fur. I hate to be cold--I get chilled easily, yet, when it snows in Hamilton it warms my heart to be in it. To be in the heart of the furry pink sky late at night when no one is really awake; when there is little traffic, fewer pedestrians and my neighbours have all gone to bed or to work for the night; to lie on my bed and watch the sky glow as white snow falls like icing sugar dusting all the imperfections of the city, my heart is warmed and I feel content.

Romance flourishes under pink faux fur skies and melancholy becomes a desirable state of mind.

Even the man upstairs with his anger, bitterness, loneliness and madness is soothed by the soft night. His footsteps are lighter and the music he chooses it peaceful--even to me. He coughs less and paces very little.

I can hear my neighbour on my left has come home. She shuffles up the three flights of stairs with surprising energy considering the time of day she returns and the time since she left. She rarely fumbles with her keys, unlike me, and tonight her touch is gentle and when the door closes it isn't startling. The delicate wonder of this night has pacified us.

The ebb and flow of my old building contracting and relaxing with the fluctuations in temperature is the only sound I can hear besides the distant whir of a siren and putting of an engine.

Tomorrow will come too soon and the pink sky will fade into gray conjuring up little passion in those who observe it. The usual frustrations of the day will return with the sun and the fantasy of the snow will become a mild nuisance to motorists, pedestrians and the like. And in the morning, as I sadly move between dreams into reality, a vague sense of distaste will cloud my mind as I reflect on this flowery post inspired by snow.