Frozen white falling,
Clings stubbornly to trees,
A border, a blank accent,
Winter's substitute for leaves.

The pencil lines of branches,
Faint enough to be erased,
The ground off-white whitewash,
The sky a mix of greys.

The world seems hushed and silent
But for flakes cascading down,
A still, a frame, a picture,
Of a dull sub-urban town.