Six-thirty a.m. Dark. No sound save the wind’s distant crescendos and calms. No traffic sounds. Slip out of bed to check the internet for closings: could it be? Oh, snow day! A peek outside: streetlamp light illuminates the snow, still blowing horizontally, at least eight inches overnight on the street, the driveway. Every twig and shaggy pine branch, every mailbox and phone wire frosted white. Back to bed. No more alarm. The family sleeps, everyone safe, nowhere anyone needs to go. The house is warm and fully stocked. Everything can wait: shoveling, work, even wakefulness. Return to dreams.