It Snows in Boston Tonight

He says it snows in Boston tonight.

I can only imagine
      the pressing of ice
     on old sidewalks with cracks of past winters.
Abutting narrow roads seasoned
     with the poison grit of brine and sand.

 I can only imagine
     the weight of white
     on leaves that are destined for descent.
Just outside his window ecto-etched
     with the sky’s ice sighs.

I can only imagine
     the warmth of air
     pulsing in his new apartment
Into his bedroom furnished with the comfort
   of hibernating dreams.

I say, he is warm in Boston tonight.

– 5 December 2009

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