
A nipping change in barometric pressure prods
its frosty tongue at the ever warming planet.
A gentle kiss is blown by the servant clouds,
and the orange city suddenly becomes as cold as granite.
Unsatisfied, the desperately shivering lips invade the
atmosphere and flakey white tears trickle down to the raw soil.
Black iron lamp posts are painted pale, the asphalt alabaster,
and the glittery headlights pearl - the brownstones silver, and
the autumn dog parks a brisk vanilla swirl. The first tickle of
winter has finally arrived in Boston...a transition that
softens the hardened landscape into a chilled wintery cotton.

About the Creator
Kale Sinclair
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!




Comments (5)
Brrrrrr - the picture is gorgeous and I loved this poem!!
Do you paint the pictures to your poems? They're gorgeous.
Great poem!!!
This was so wonderful! Loved your beautiful poem!
Beautiful...