Stopping by █████ Street

After Robert Frost

The cold blew through Cincinnati
bringing snowflakes earthward

downy feathers
settling against ground

after a cosmic pillow fight.
Rime ice coats the bare trees.

The city, like a Christmas village
up on a mantle, cotton-snow covered

as chimneys exhale into the night
above dusted evergreen boughs.

The houses on █████ and █████
look miniature, all gingerbread

or cardboard, defanged
dioramas made just for me.

With the flick of a lighter,
I could burn it all down.