Trees, all with no leaves.

Their branches blowing in the cool wind.

A car drives past.

I hear birds chirping in the distance,

I see brown, dry grass,

And a piece of trash,

Blowing in the wind.

Another car.

I hear distant people talking,

Distant car horns honking, 

And another car, this one blasting music.

So many cars.

I see a squirrel, scurrying up a tree,

With another right behind him,

Chasing each other, in a fight, perhaps. 

And then they get scared off,

By yet another car.

How many cars was that now?

Five? Six?

I couldn't keep count.

I walk past a small pile of snow,

Sitting by the road,

Black and gross.

Another car goes by, nothing notable about this one.

I see the squirrel again, or was it a different squirrel?

Who knows.

The squirrel was black, and had a skinny tail.

Then a car scared it off. 

I turned around and went home.