winter.

On these days,

when the snow falls,

grasping the tops of houses,

the silence numbs.

The soft swishing,

as the water meshes with snow.

Like a whisper,

something warmer than the weather.

The buildings breathe,

exhaling, inhaling the winter.

The people inside,

barely appreciate the beauty, the shelter.

On these days,

I'm outside,

with my hands huddled together.

On these days,

the air is fresh,

I always feel better.