The snow falls slowly, softly, silently down to the pavement, and the trees take their last suckling breath of fall air before nodding off into their long winter slumber.
The streets are frozen by a blanket of ice and snow.
The air is crisp and fresh.
The snow falls past the street light glow and the frantic whispers of the wind muffle the sounds of the few cars that happen to pass by, slowly, pretending they might have somewhere to go.
What's left of the leaves on trees are shriveled and broken. The candy colored lights that decorate the streets become dull, lifeless and no longer have a meaning.
The smells of evergreen and wet dog are intoxicating.
In almost every yard, i see a watchmen. A small tower of snow no longer standing as tall as it was a few days ago. Melting, Disappearing no longer needed.
The cold nips at my nose and chin and breathing is hard, cold, and sharp.
Frost has taken the life of surrounding plants declaring it it's own, leaving patches of dead, withering grass.
As darkness creeps in, it announces the days end; and as the stars come out, it makes my surroundings seem small and futile.
Winter, misunderstood like people.
