Human Footprint Series: Snow

Let the zone of perpetual snow not disappear. Let the world be be white: from Chibougamau, to Blanc Sablon, from Drummondville to Lac St-Jean, from Metagami to Rivière-du-Loup, let candles of snow light forests and flakes descend in capes and saucers, sleepily silver and white. Remember how it began: from school windows in naptime hush we watched as chalk dust shook loose from plump skies, then cupfuls of rice, rabbit fur, knuckle bones, chipped china and finally a haze of hectic feathers. By the time we got off the bus, it had grown into a hungry animal, clung to dormer and sill, banked against thresholds, piled high on driveways where we drilled into drifts with shovels, mittens crystal-pilled with hard beads of carbon and our own sweat. The city sank into its calm. Breathing smoky cauls, we stood still in the descent of the last slow roses. What did we know of tepid rains to come: no meringue, no global à la mode, no frozen...