The waxing moon
Like a perfect neon in a lazy laid back posture
A sprinkling of snow
Like the icing sugar on a local baker's sponge cake
The biting cold
Chapps lips and leaves eyes streaming
The frozen earth
Blurring the boundaries between living and tarmac
A running dog
Breathes smoke like the wildest storybook dragon
The lights of the city
Like an open treasure chest in the sprawling valley
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