WHITE BLANKET OF SNOW
The snow is falling.
Flakes float to the ground.
A hush falls across the city.
Few cars dare to brave the roads.
Too soon for building snowmen.
Footsteps have yet to marr
the white surface.
A white blanket.
Sparkling clean.
The city is refreshed.
Its sins covered.
A rebirth.
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When I lived (briefly) in New York, I was always amazed at how clean and quiet the city became when it snowed. At least for a little while.
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It’s clean for about ten minutes and then a car goes by. In the suburbs, it stays white a little while longer.
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