First snowfall
Outside my window, the world is blanketed in silent white. It always looks so pristine, so fresh, undisturbed right after a snowfall. So clean and perfect. I am tempted to indulge in snow-angels, and licking the falling flakes out of the sky, to write my name on the windows of parked cars, and make some footprints in the freshness.
The arc sodium light casts a soft orange glow, like diluted fruit juice, side by side with the soft yellow leaking from the windows of those still awake or rising.
It'll end in melting, dingy greyness. But right now, it's new.