Street Life
Nov 24 2013

Before the plough
belched down the curb
churning-up walls of snow.
That will soon ice-up

pack hard enough
to last the winter.

Before the first tentative cars
inched and slid and spun,
turning snow to slush
and white, a muddy brown.

Running cold

and topped with mounds of snow

they looked like slow-moving floats
in the Christmas parade.

Before the street-lamps were snuffed,
and a necklace of light

running down each side

warmed the street with gold.
Perfect flakes
swirling in amber snow-globes.

Before huddled figures
dodged sidewalk drifts

leaning into the wind.

Hunkered-down
in parkas and scarves
in a fog of frozen breath.

When snow softened everything.
When the sky hinted of pink.

When I stood outside,

in the unnatural stillness

and disconcerting quiet

like the last man on earth.

Or the first.
So sorry to have disturbed
such virgin snow.

I chose Street Life hoping it would resonate with “still life”; and that “street” would convey a kind of urban sensibility.

There are these early morning moments, even in the downtown of a big city, when everything seems on pause and preternaturally still. Especially after a paralyzing overnight storm, in the muffled softness of freshly fallen snow.