An icy gust shadowed him
around the corner,
grazing his earlobe and
sending chills across the way
His Italian wool threads
exuded perfection
even as he slid into leather –
heading for someplace
he labeled important

Then birdsong matched
her mood and with her cell
on speaker,
passersby became privileged
Her long coat sufficed,
but she tightened the belt
as the gust wrapped itself
around her like a python
When the hailed driver
met the curb,
she smugly skimmed
over the back seat
until satisfaction found her –
phone chat uninterrupted

And across the way,
huddled against the
weathered building,
he imagined a handful
of warmth
yielded from his worn beanie
and threadbare coat –
layers of blankets
occupied his dreams
No complaints fell
from his chattering teeth
Instead, his eyes were alert
and his mind formulated wishes

Lauren Scott © 2018
(re-write)