A window open to

the smell of leaves burning

in candied tempo.

Unbottled air that’s been

biting at the sky for its turn

to unfurl in crispy drier sheets

on the bricked buildings

holding people steady

in their homes.

Static against skin, the air

meets the warmth of the

heater below the window

busy chugging the first

drafts of warmth through the

building’s brass toned organs,

spaces that have forgotten

the gray felt of overcast skies and

the puffy quilts of bomber jackets

red cheeks stinging in the light.

Almost imperceptible,

the dance begins.

Waves of energy exchanging

in blurry glances

at the front of warm

meeting cold. A dance

of forgotten friends who

are pleased to discover

they can still

hover

in melodious tension.

Two forces coupled in their own business,

an interplay in perfect composition with the

flickering flame inside boasting its

humble aura of warmth on a table

littered with cast aside keys and

brisk envelopes

left for later.

The dance billows and ripples

with gusts of fragrant decay.

Woven magic gone

unnoticed by sleepy cats

peaceful on top tightly knit

wool, bellies rising,

heavy with slumber.

An abrupt breath extinguishes the flame to

smoke. It goes out with a sigh

of birthday candle scent making

its way to freshly showered skin

arrest on the couch,

eyes glued to the unseen ocean

rippling in and out.

Steamed cells content to smile at the

smell of new year wishes and

wait for the fresh current of wind to

reduce their parched flush to a

tumble of warmth nestling inwards.

A stab of air makes it through

the cellophane puddles

at the window.

Hitting wet hair, it perks

ears up to hums purred below

sirens in the distance.

Eyes fix forward

at the liquid dance continuing on,

in kite tail streams

like confetti forgotten

at the end of the party.

Pressure evaporating thick,

stilled to discover a

counter in the motion.