After an hour the mild
Confusion of snow
Amongst the lamplights
Has softened and subdued
The nervous lines of bare
Branches etched against
The chill twilight.
Now behind me, upon the pallid
Expanse of empty boulevard,
The snow reclaims from the darkened
Staring show of windows,
One by one, a single
Line of footprints 
-- from 'The Thin Edge of Your Pride'; Kenneth Rexroth

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