Snow flakes drift by,
washing the world white.
Cold drips down my neck,
scarf scratching,
steps slipping,
breath billows in small clouds,
miniature factories.
Trudge through the flakes
filling the sky,
painting a picture of
a world wiped clean.
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Shawn L. Bird 
Makes the cold sound enchanting, lovely use of words.
Imagining such a whiteness to the landscape from winter’s first big snow!
“breath billows in small clouds,
miniature factories.”
Gorgeous imagery. Lovely poem.
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