Shouldn't…but Do

Though sunny, the cold temperatures keep most inside.

A neighborhood swathed in snow, bounded only by rounded snowbanks.

Though the sky is clear, wind plays precociously with porch chimes and decorative bells, ringing down the street where I am walking.

Somewhere unseen, the silver belled bough of the ancient Celts sings. Calling to the quest those able to hear its irresistible music.

Young, old, wise, despicable—can you hear it?  It is time for away.