The dog went out into the cold and then sat at the door, wanting back in right away. She shook herself and the floor was wet with melting snow.
All morning it had been falling and had filled the tracks of the dog's wild frolics and the furtive rabbit's nightly visits around the bushes.
The pruned twigs were gone. The round pellets were gone. The dog's frozen
shit piles, gone. The yard was immaculate.
The cement cherub in the garden, visible from the waist up, wore a white hat, her shoulders covered. Her arms were filling as if embracing snow.