A veil of dusk slowly descends on a snowy evening,
 Hiding the streets in the flurries and the fog.
Hinting of colonial spirits drifting purposefully,
 Betwixt the Pub, the Kirk, and the hearth.
But hope arises with a golden radiating glow,
 Lamps punching through the gloom to safe at home
Image © Mark A Phillips
Verse © Mark A Phillips
A snowy evening in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia.