New Snow

Snow arrives
Pushes at the door
Claiming outside as its domain
White out here
The car is mine
The branch, laden with me, bends
Traffic lights topped
Schools beg for reprieve
My blanket, pure, spread across town
Waiting for feet and tires and animal tracks
I will stay as long as you'll have me
Sound, quiet, pristine
Waiting for yellow

© Poem Fix 2013

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