Snow

The cold gray mists of the early morning
Descended over the stark blank slate
Of winter trees.

Streetlights have not yet shut off
The morning is still and close
Not even the neighborhood dogs
Are breaking the silence.

The mist grows heavier
Droplets are forming
The streets are slick with moisture
A lone dog breaks the silence but quickly
Stops.

The cold snow has not yet begun
But hangs in the air
Anticipated.

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