Before five at 3* in robe, slippers, I held my breath, walked Zayne down the ramp so he could dash past the idling pickup truck which scared him. I breathed, not intentionally, I breathed in daggers returning to the house to inhale soothing chemicals. Scars of pneumonia past, before the boys were born.

     I took the red broom from the hook by the door brushed snow lodged against the glass fluffy with some weight some depth. Across the deck down the ramp sweeping a path for the three, through the gate to the garage a continuous path. Knit cap creeping over my eyes. Boots, gloves need waterproofing. So far, my Pennsylvania thrift-store LL Bean parka sheds snow.

     Nights of sleep that eluded piled into bed with me. If not for the dogs, I would still be sleeping. Perhaps I’m just dreaming I’m “writing.” Maybe I’m sleepwalking? Temp has risen five degrees since six; chance of 1-4” of snow dropped to 27%.

     One could easily step from star to star and not fall from on high at two. Clear. Bright. By five hiking boots, maybe a jet pack required to reach visible stars. No eyes met mine. The three did not see anything to bark. We sought the warmth of coffee in a slate blue cup, biscuits, blankets.

     Slid door to darkness, stepped onto a dry deck as soon as the three were out glops of rain, as if it wanted to be snow but warmth wouldn’t allow. What must it be like to fall from clouds through varying temperatures, to change shape? Is it like riding a bicycle on a hot day passing through a cool place?

     Breeze cools faces, paws, hands, bare heads. We don’t linger long in snowless land. In darkness stream claimed new boundaries. Wind snatched fire pit cover, shoved grill across front deck – another burst would’ve walked it down the stairs.

     Ice craters bowls of water. Wind serenades, not yet reaching screaming range. Solar lights wait for their dance partner to dip to twirl. Ravens absent three days. Open water? Water atop ice? Gray skies raining.

     Stars salt ebony sky. Perhaps they disturbed sleeping deer, perhaps a creature of the night happened by while I was putting coffee into the pot, the three barking, went back into their fenced-in-land when I stepped again onto the deck. Nothing seen in flashlight beam. Frost. No wind. Coffee drips into my cup. The three consume biscuits return to sleep. Temperature dropping.

     According to pattern, this morning by two degrees, temperature dropped. Through closed blinds sky gains light with a touch of orange. The three sleep. Through darkness at six, not seeing anything, no eyes looking at mine, no breaking branches, no sounds I returned to my desk with coffee; drummed All Creatures of Our God and King thinking how it will sound recorded; chorus of alleluia layered as a round via digital magic. Perhaps later birds, rooster, traffic. Now, ringing in my ears. I wonder if dogs experience this sensation.

     Soleil spreads her joyful glow through trees, through windows. All through the night clear bright skies with a piece of moon. The three like kings survey fenced-in-land wish to walk places beyond their sight. Birds do not sing a song of wassailing. There are no common primroses blooming.

     Orange streaks across Eastern horizon gray sky replacing starry mat of night. Mariah is already clashing branches, maybe making more ice slippery. No snow blessed us yesterday. Frost last night. Tree decorations are in house, maybe. I just gathered boxes marked “Christmas.” I’m not really sure what’s in them. One though has bells, I heard them. Maybe later, brownies in the oven.

     Uncalled for snow sprinkled itself last evening. I swept away the slippery. Snow was to begin an hour ago, end at 7 PM. Gray skies withholding. Pond invisible. Coffee in my favorite pottery cup getting colder. The three sleeping. The drum calling.