Snowy road, salted deep blue. Colored with yellow ochre sand rests its hump . The smell of brick chimneys breathing. Bluish grey rolling down the hill, easy, slow, quiet – no one is around - snow stays whole. All the feet rest home by the fireplaces or central heating. We walk alone. Sound of my shoes opens the curtain of smoke, I see the valley filling up with the morning light. Snowy road, salted white. I carry a bag of frozen boiled potato skins. By the time we get to the river, my warm hand wakes them up and they talk with smell. Dog rushes over ice, barking, excited about friends he is going to meet. Clapping their soft wings to the cold water stream ducks fly quacking loud, ready to share another morning with us and, of course, tasty snacks saved for them by mom.
- Milda Laužikaitė