The First Snowfall (Poem)

morning blanketed with silence

quietened by slow drift from a wintry sky

harsh bite of a seasonal chill

hazardous for the unwise

the town breaks from industrial clangor

no busy rush on the streets

no rumble through buildings on Main

what does it offer that we do not already have

stillness rests on the breath

noise a sound to be joined

this is only the day that is

every day is that

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