by Lilian Moore

Wake gently this morning to a different day. Listen.

There is no bray of buses, no brake growls, no siren howls and no horns
blow.

There is only the silence of a city hushed by snow.

by Dorothy Aldis

When it is the winter time

I run up the street

And I make the ice laugh

With my little feet— “Crickle, crackle, crickle

Crrreeet, crrreeet, crrreeet.”