Snow
white tonight. The waves
on the Atlantic have given
themselves to the Arctic pulse
that's infused our section of coast.
Crystalline confection, lifted
on the currents that sort themselves
around the city's towers. Finding
a brick surface, the reticent grass . . .
the frozen breath expanding
across the lagoon's shallows.
Even the sky has lost
its ambition. Let the city sleep
in heaven's pale mystery, quiet
beneath the gown, until morning.
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