The Frozen City

The roof over the frozen city is implacably
aluminum-hued, casting its silvery-grey
aspect generously below, like an
ephemeral, mysterious fog shielding
the city from the imperious glare of the
sun, faintly evidenced but failing its
penetrating struggle. The city sits aloof
and contemplative in its wintry fastness.

A cold, white overthrow of snow has
gained the upper hand through layers of
snowfalls raining relentlessly upon this urban
landscape, tucking the city securely into
winter for the duration of those long
months in the northern hemisphere so
impervious to climatic moderation. Encased
in a tireless grip of ice, city residents burrow
deep for comfort within their homes.

Protectively sheltered from the hostile
elements by houses deflecting the killing
chill, by their vehicles straggling roadways
slick with sinister ice. The great river bisecting
the city reverted from easy flow to glassy
firmness where ice-fishing huts perch and
elsewhere skaters sail over the snow-cleared
ice of a groomed canal. The river, blue-black
under the fogged sky, still roils and rumbles
where the constant rocky slipstreams of
its powerful rapids confront freeze-up.

The seat of government, stonily muscular
in its grey-cut Gothic renaissance, a stern
reminder that here resides order and authority.
The buildings squat stolidly on their river redoubt,
clock tower's spire dispatching elusive time. The
wide-spread city parkland and forests throughout
and bordering the metropolis with living green
ready to spring back to life when winter departs,
releasing the city from its frozen bondage.