Quiet,
but not too quiet,
a peaceful world,
encased in powder,
ground glazed over with ice,
like a Krispy Kreme donut,
a fog with every breath,
in
and out,
lights on
in every house
filled with loved ones,
crackling fire,
bundled up
waiting for school to cancel
with all your might.
On a snowy New York night,
a light hoo-ing from a lone owl,
the bark of a dog on its nightly walk,
laughter from street corners,
cheerful smiles whisper in the dark,
cars trying hopelessly to drive,
wheels grinding on the once tough pavement,
spitting, cursing at the slick road,
a hushed croak from an old pond toad.
On a snowy New York night,
a warm fire sniffing the air,
fresh popcorn popping,
waiting to be strung,
salty sweet aroma filling the once brittle air,
either dressed up like Eskimos,
wandering carelessly into the snow,
or reading a book and staying at home,
waiting under the mistletoe.
On a snowy New York night,
a crisp air fills your lungs
at the first breath of winter,
taste of the anticipation of fun,
the first snowflake landing on your tongue,
excitement of the following day,
school’s out, bring your sleighs.
On a snowy New York night,
it’s peaceful,
hopeful, thoughtful, wishful,
a somber night
brought to life,
by a winter, not yet lost,
summoned by Jack Frost,
warm,
quiet,
peaceful,
and light –
On a snowy New York night.