First the sky went gray, then it went nowhere at all — just white, just hush, just the quad disappearing an inch at a time.
an ode
for every day the quad went quiet and white
Some winters arrive loud — plows and salt and rushing. This one didn’t. It came sometime in the night, and by morning Front Campus had gone soft and silent, every path erased, every branch bowed low, the whole quad wrapped in something like held breath.
These are the days we stopped to notice. Here they are, kept safe behind glass — still falling.
First the sky went gray, then it went nowhere at all — just white, just hush, just the quad disappearing an inch at a time.
Footprints before anyone else’s — the only proof that morning had happened yet.
Someone always builds something. Someone always has to stand in it and not go anywhere for a while.
The trees kept their arms out anyway, snow-heavy, patient, holding on to nothing.
Windows fogged from the inside — the whole world reduced to a warm rectangle of watching.
It doesn’t feel like cold so much as quiet. Like the campus finally exhaling.
Boots by the door, the smell of wet wool, everyone slower than they meant to be.
And then, always, the hush lifting — the sky letting go of what it had been keeping.

Snow doesn’t fall on Front Campus. It settles in, and stays a while.