Furtive

After bedtime,
and furtive, the snow begins,
fat flakes
impacting without a sound.
An accomplice,
a breathless wind refuses
to betray
the ghost haunting this night.
Nary a pane
is rattled to raise the alarm.
Yet the tracks
of witnesses are evident.
Its softened
fur worn like a blanket,
green eyes alert
and sphinx-like, the cat
dries by the fire.
There is no alerting clang
from city plows.
In on the secret, a wind-
chime doesn’t.
The accumulating silence
waits for dawn.

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