The Face of Winter

it is snowing at 2 degrees
but it is a wet snow,
not cold enough
and the streets run in rivulets

but how quietly it falls
how stately
carefully sewing its
blanket of white
to muffle all our scares
to brighten our night

no cars on the road
no noise, no-one -
village lights are lit
and chimneys are on

I come home to the
peace of my little space
no-one to tell me what
I should be doing, no-
one to displace me
from the centre of my 

turning world for the first time
a world of quiet white
staring me in the face

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