Central Park

The park was clear - the night was not - save children sledding
and sons and daughters in snowball fights, while horses pulling
carriages clopped-clopped-clopped on steel clad hooves.
The ducks had fled their ice-topped homes, and icicles hung
of Alice’s shrooms, while Anderson sat in statuesque observance
of two bundled visitors - together, alone. The skeletal trees
cracked and whined, as the wind pushed and twisted through
their branches, and the children giggled in their sleds sliding
sideways down the snowy hills.