This Moment: 11:22 P.M. February 18, 2012

The falling snow flutters like moths around the porch lights. The dogs are settled on the rugs in the living room. The small dog scratches at his collar with his hind leg, then suddenly runs to the bedroom. I hear him scratching a place to settle on his pillow. He settles, then leaps up and scratches again. I know from the rustling he is doing his circle dance and will soon tire and lay himself down. My husband's snoring in the other room, the irritating voices of late night news, then Whitney's lovely voice fill the silence. Another light has gone out. By morning the landscape will be laden under heavy white. The dogs bark and stand expectantly at the front door when my daughter turns into the driveway. The small dog has a chew toy pinned beneath his paw. The old dog lumbers over and rests her head on the sofa to receive her pats. Snow is falling in slow spirals. I feel sleep coming on swift feet. A train whistles through the night and I am happy for the company.

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