Winter in the City
Sub-arctic winds blowing across the
wide boulevard leaving crystalline
mounds glinting and glistening as if
all the stars in the heavens had
fallen to the curb, no larger than
they look from billions of miles away.
NaCL + (crystal) H20 -> salt flats
that would make Utah proud, leaving
car and shoe alike trembling
with dread.
The sky is clear, the air crisp and
pure, every color standing in sharpest
relief against argent fields aground.
That is, until the snow stops falling.
Day by day, what was white turns gray;
and what was fresh, alive and bright,
now is gritty, post-industrial blight.
Then the magic flakes materialize
again, wiping away the grime (or just
covering it), flushing the soot from
the air like a great Gaian sneeze.
Is that another 6 inches on the
driveway? I'm staying in today.
