Walking out of class tonight, I passed under a lonely streetlamp that was illuminating the falling snow in a perfect cone of light. Large, wet flakes were blanketing the sidewalk with a fresh, undisturbed layer of snow. There is something magical listening to the silence of snow gently falling. Something peaceful and pure. Clean and new.
06 Nov This entry was published on November 6, 2008 at 06:02 and is filed under Poetry.