Sky of Motion, Night of Peace

Bright on the wind the starry flakes ride down, slantwise and spiral, whispering as they fall, swirling around the streetlamps of the town, snugging the houses, heaping beside a wall. The air is white as if with down or fleece, the sky is filled with motion. To and fro like silent music weaves the kind of peace known only on a night of falling snow.

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