Snow slithers across Tenth, Races like a white fire Across empty lots. The sun is a hazy glow Slowly extinguished By a rising horizon. The dog demands Entrance from the cold. She paws her furious circle In her corner nest. With an old blanket, We dam the river Of frigid air flowing in Beneath the door. The television radiates A blaze of warm colors. We nestle around it, deep In our flannel quilts, Like seeds waiting To germinate in spring.