Snow is spiraling down from the waves of dark grey above.
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Each flake dances like a swinger through the edgy wind and
falls away when the breeze departs. The
evergreens surround paths that cut through grass long since covered in powder. Branches are crying
with a load that they cannot seem to sustain. The wind
comes off the mountain tops and stirs the depressed
branches. Every flake is jostled out of place and drifts
back down to a comfortable spot on the pad of white far
The busy city air travels up to reach the balcony of the
highest skyscraper. From such a height, it's only a slight
breeze but the dust flutters in it's soft caress and drifts from the height. Empty air below the dust gives way and the grey specks fall like tiny feathers. Far below, cars rush and honk at one another and people pound out rhythmic songs on the asphalt. The dust floats down, down drawing nearer and near to the rush below. On it's descent it passes windows were people glance out. Or argue incessantly. Or sit on the couch in front of their colorful screens. Huge building rise up over the pieces as they fall. Finally, the dust nears the onslaught of the ground and in a moment is resettled on the padded black jacket of a businessman on his way to a conference. He casually brushes away the dirt he sees on his shoulder and steps into a building for his important meeting.
"God grant me distraction."