Soaked with yellow light,
Steam rises from the street
In twirling vertical rivulets,
Like ghosts of the midnight ice.

Blooms of frost bouquets
Begin to wilt and recede
Across the panes of glass
That cover the world today.

Goosebumps become smooth
As the sun touches cold flesh,
A sigh escapes, with visible breath
And the day comes.

The day comes.