Pre-dawn, too dark to see, but it is sleeting out I know. Sounds of crumpling cellophane; the frozen rain hits sideways from the northwest–the bedroom wall. Sanders going by, and so it’s slippery ice, freezing as it hits the road. Trees creak just a bit as they bend from extra wet weight built up in layers. Tick-ticking against the living room window, a sudden rush from winds that turn and change their mind.
All this I know with eyes closed, ears open.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
So vivid the imagery. Wonderful.