Days of snow are magical, somehow the world is less real, less volatile, dangerous but in a way that shoe grips, flu tablets, and determination can battle through. They are days where you think outwards but remain inside, feed yourself and thank your blessings. They are like days where you find yourself lifting your arms surrounded by the hundreds of others who do so, days when the crowd all seem to be facing the same way, the same battles, the same solution. Those days it's easy to raise your arms for you feel almost self concious not to. You want to abandon yourself to that moment of worship because in that moment you recognise with awe and deep gratitude the one for whom you have gathered. You may not have the 'shoe-grips' and 'shovel' but you too are trudging through the snow like the thousands you sing with.
When the snow melts the world changes, the music stops and the noise starts. The white disappears and the mud and muck spread so easily on damp shoes, the stunning icicles are now natures weapon and your hands stay by your sides, your fingers intertwined. The world feels real again, volatile and haunted. the angelic echoes fade and your prayers became needs and not thanks once more. The myriad of possibilities and hurdles root you to the spot. Until you close your eyes, remember the snow, let your fingers release, your arms rise, and let your soul breath a silent 'hallelujah'.