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A winter's day.
I sit here slightly chilled on my bed. The window is open just a crack and the smell of presnow air fills my room while brushing against my bare arms. Silence is through my apartment except for the soft purr of my cat beside me. I can't help but smile as I look at her stretched out beside me, her grey fur completely absorbing her tiny frame. Two black sleepy eyes watch me through a mass of fluff as I rub her belly gently, causing an instant reaction of toe curling.
I sit back in my bed pulling the covers over my feet, listening now to the traffic outside my room. I can hear the crows flocking together communicating in an elaborate code of kaws and aws. Their constant bickering tells me that a storm is on it's way. Perhaps they are preparing for it themselves. Their secret navigation or compass warns them of the incoming weather, reminding them once again that nature owns them.
As I straighten up to look out the window I notice the snow already moving in across the water. The normally visable docks across our harbour are slightly blurred by a cloud of white. The foghorn reminds me that it's snow, snow moving across to fall on us. The dark grey water mirrors the grey sky. As the snow gets denser it encompasses any knowledge of the previous dark green land, joining both the sky and bay together. The sound of the foghorn is more frequent and begins to mix with the bells and horns of the incoming fishing boats. A beautiful song which I hope I never forget.
I stretch sleeply; although I've been up for an hour the atmosphere of the day pulls me back into a lazy haze. The thoughts of leaving my castle of cotton and feathers is absent, even though I know that I must in time. I lay my warm cheek against my soft pillow, refreshed by it's coolness, it's scent of winter. My eyes are drawn to my curtains. A river of red dances by my window frame, only then do I notice...the beginnings of snow falling gently into my room.
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