*edited* Winter Poem

Holding Arctic Air

The sky is thick and gray, a heavy wool blanket

Draping the world in chills and shivers, instead of warmth

Muffling cautious boots on the sidewalk

And almost all is white and quiet

These flurries that we say are unique and beautiful

Spin down from the clouds, exotic dances around our faces

Landing gently on eyelashes, jackets, ponytails and gloves

Little pieces of kaleidoscope wonder melting on pink tongues

Snowflakes are not beautiful, they are awkward

Clumped together randomly like they are huddling for warmth and waiting for the Lincoln bus

Which arrived in a squeal of wet wheels and dirty slush

A leftover present from your faithful neighborhood snowplow man, free of charge

Oh, and when we walk our streets at night

Naked trees wearing nothing but thin frosty coats

Glaring yellow bulbs stand guard on the hard wet curb

We slip and fall on that invisible ice, shrouded beneath dirty footprints

Frigid air bites and freezes the end of our noses

Raw pink, and we inhale a rush of brisk exhilaration

There's something giddy and magical about winter nights

Holding arctic air in our numb hands, palms up, fingers outstretched and we feel so alive

Looking through fogged up windows transforms the streetlights angelic

Clean white halos against the dark night canvas

Pure beacons of warmth in a cold Windy City

Glowing through the night