New Year's Eve Eve

New Year’s Eve Eve

Snow arrives softly, the kind that knows better than to rush.

It settles along old storefronts and brick edges, rounding corners and dimming time. The bridge spans the river like a familiar thought, its reflection wavering in dark water below.

The sky never quite lifts today.

A low winter gray hangs on, pressing everything closer, quieter. Streetlights glow early, their warmth blurred by frost. Windows shine from within—small, steady lights holding ordinary moments safe.

The cold is honest tonight.

Sharp enough to wake old memories.

Still enough to make the quiet feel intentional.

It isn’t the end of the year yet.

And it isn’t the beginning either.

It’s the pause between.

Where the town listens.

Where the night lingers, snow-covered and waiting.