Eyes of the Storm I

autumn subsides to the first frost
skyscraping mirrors wince now
as the sun gives them her back
the city’s bustle fades to an echo

I can see the caliginous climate
inhaling souls from peoples mouths
lank & luteous wisps shelter my face
as your pout warms the tip of my nose

but I find no warmth behind your lashes
only these obdurate maelstroms
– or what they call
the windows to your bitter soul