The windows weep condensation, streams down,
to settle at the pane ,a jaw line.
Dripping rhythmically seeping , into her rug.
The sky outside; smudged lead, plumed with dark clouds.
Like water after a brush is cleaned.
Trees are wrecked with wailing winds, bring news
The gossiping of an new arctic chill.
Bearing her teeth, sinking into flushed cheeks.
Red and pink, swathed in itchy, coarse wool.
Suffocated under turtleneck jumpers
and fur trimmings. Small children hobble up
the long school pathway, thrown and tossed about
in the loud winds, red eyes watering,
redder noses running.
they are sustained on the promise,
of the following seasons festivities, come to liberate them.