An early riser, I like to lie in bed and try to sense the time from the quality of the light seeping past the curtains. This morning the quality of the light said daytime, but the amount of light said dawn. My brain did the calculations and, adding in existing information, concluded “snow.” It’s very early in the season for this amount of snow—we used to get hints of winter leading up to the first true accumulation around Thanksgiving Day. When I was little, in fact, I used to feel very cheated if there wasn’t snow at Thanksgiving, because of the poem, which promised me “white and drifted snow” on Thanksgiving Day. Of course, it also promised me a horse and carriage, not to mention countryside, both things generations removed from my reality.

Up at blue-grey dawn
Winter before wintertime
Snow stinging my face

I don’t know if we’ll have a snowy Thanksgiving, but this is the second sticking snow of the season, and it’s only Veterans’ Day.

On remembrance day
Standing in the stinging snow
Old men in cloth coats

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