Specks of white

Skin hardens while waves of goosebumps

blanket the various surfaces to shield the

flesh and bones from the fleeting frost.

The trees within the parks,

all sheened in green moss,

are now naked in the dark, all leaves are lost.

Orange clouds no longer shimmer red nor yellow hues,

instead they’ve gone dimmer, a deeper tone of darker blues.

Flakes begin to fall and paint the land in alabaster,

leaving tiny specks of white glitter on my

late blooming purple asters.

P.S.

My dog’s nose has lightened back into a grayish-pink.

Mugs of devoured hot drinks are stacked into towers in my sink.

Winter has arrived. The city is changing. Cold has revived.

An image lost in a painting.