Frosty stares match withered trees; fallen leaves
deck cobbled floors and faces. Coffee cups
lick fur-lined fingers, shirking morning freeze.
The wooden gala poignant porters sup
their taste of morning revel. Flocking geese
set down to bristle 'gainst stone steps. Scattered
voices pool by slumbering streams, each fleece
a dot of pride and presence. The battered
boats are drawn out from their silent dreaming,
lined along the cusp; left to bob. Voyagers
teeming take their seat 'midst shivers; scheming
paddles mutter threats in slurful rages.
The coldest figure takes to stand with gun,
takes aim, takes breath, McHammering fun.