This is where the bench begins
four feet inward from the sidewalk curb
weather torn iron cast legs
corrugated wood spans.

cold fingers dance along
trembling touching tantalizing
it's icy and it's stark and the grey dull bench
is.

Clouds dance greys in a sea under a sea
exploring shades of monotone passing photons downwards
and the cold air ushers a low howl: dead winter has arrived