washington skyline

Icy breath from the Potomac
swells up the walls of the cathedral;
a cold caress from frozen waters
atop rocky roof,
mile-high spire in the city
overlooking great white frozen plates
floating under the bridge.

The dark is fleeting,
the sun ages away,
remembered from the dawn of the continent,
still living,
still breathing
from below concrete
white cement and black sulfur,
pieces of ash
from burning cigarettes
stealing kisses
from dead leaves
spread across shrinking fields.

Inside,
the warmth will come;
a thermostat
brought from overseas
helps to conquer winter
and to deny the river
its victory.