the cold of needles & knives

enter a new year
the days, they claim,
are getting longer.
it must be hell to work a job
that keeps you in
all the sun's waking winter hours.

happy becomes necessity
& what then?

waiting on an elevated platform
in 17 degree weather
is the cold of knives & needles.

sun sets in a west
that seems more south
oranges & reds
burn deep to the horizon
on stratus clouds.

faroff bridges mark angles
the east river & bay beyond
are the cold color
of the highways & sky.
time without clouds
makes cold deeper.

train slants down'ard
bldgs cut black icy silhouettes
against the sinking sky.
the cold of knives & needles
cuts shapes out of an icy sky.

bricks hold tighter together
& if they were struck
by a wrecking ball
they'd explode
in cold.