Walking to the Caf

Walking to the Caf
(not a poem)

The frozen snow crunches beneath our boots
And dusts the dorm roofs.
The wind nips at our noses
Like an over-eager puppy.
The sky is dark, but brilliant
Like there is a light shining behind its fabric.
Above us the moon gleams
(a silver smile).
Tree branches are dark and distinct on the sky
(spilled ink).
We laugh
And catch our breath
And smile so hard our teeth turn cold.
Shivers chase us into the warmth.
The night is a cloak
At our backs.