Precipitation

The sky is dark
As we leave the park.
In the clouds roll.
We cut short our stroll.
The wind quickens.
The air thickens.
Droplets fall to the ground.
Shelter we have found.
The air grows cold.
Eachother, we hold.
Liquid becomes sleet
And then snow hits the street.
Flakes dance in the air.
All we do is stare.
South Texas usually doesn't have snow.
Heat is a foe.