The quiet is loud

The view here is smaller, and I feel so far away from what I used to know. The cold settles on everything, making us stop. The quiet is loud. But we wait, and after a few long days the snow melts slowly, then almost all at once. Icicles disappear in a matter of hours. Water trickles down the street, that steady hopeful sound. I take careful walks, navigating around ice and slush. My eyes want to look up, to marvel at the houses, the trees, everything ready and brand new.