I watched the snow dissolve the world’s colors.
It started with the sky, inhaling its light
it were a fuel of some kind. That alone
was enough to cast a pallor over the land,
to stop the play of its shadows. Meanwhile, the snow
turned the pines a deep gray, and everything else
to shades of charcoal and dull ashy white.
Except for the sound of a snow plow scraping
the asphalt as it descends the eastern hill,
the world is silent. The birds are hidden balls
of downy feathers, heads tucked into their wings.
The furred things are curled in their burrows.
No cars pass. No dogs bark. It’s almost as if
breath itself has ceased, as if everything,
for this one timeless moment, has paused
and is waiting for morning.