Millions of feathery ice crystals fell from the sky enveloping the ground in a wintry blanket. The magical possibility of a snowman’s life glistened in each sparkling white flake. Old man winter whispered on the winds and his message carried to the ears of red cheeked children as their faces turned up to the sky trying to catch the frozen treasures as they tumbled downward: snowman.

Sometime during the heart of winter he was born. Large googly eyes sat on top of an orange cone shaped nose that spiraled out towards a point. Someone had taken pity on those big eyes drinking in the sun and placed a hat on his head to block the sun’s rays. A child all too familiar with the frosty grip of winter had nestled a red scarf around his neck, and by way of thanks he lifted his hands marked with 3 stick fingers up into the air. Happy all winter long he stood his freezing ground and watched the children play. It was the children’s misty breath escaping chapped lips that gave him his name: Runoff.

As the weather began to shift and warmer winds licked at the glacial surroundings Runoff became aware of the change. It happened slowly. His head began to tilt until his eyes could no longer see the children playing around him. His eyes focused now on the shining blue skies and he found delight in the soft white clouds that floated by. He imaged the sky as a mirror and the wispy white clouds as reflections of himself. He was ready when he began to feel the perimeter of his body start to drain away. He knew that he was going to be more than melted water on the ground, he was part of the water cycle.

By Shari Marshall – 2018