First Flakes

Snow, the white mud. Jack Frost is laying wall-to-wall carpet in his living room. Or is this snow really God's dandruff, drifting to Earth as he combs his intergalactic hair? 
Walking along, a slow trudge is followed by a sudden slip and slide into frozen curbside fjords where subterranean ice-floes flood your supposedly waterproof boots. 
Itinerant snowmen appear, the smug gnomes of winter, and we stagger by, hoping for the sun to wipe the smiles off their faces. Happy new year.