First Winter Days

The wind has taken the last of autumn, and the city feels plunged beneath a sea. The air feels serious - we don't take in the lighthearted breaths of summer now - and there is a sobriety to the air, a monochrome brooding that sharpens oxygen, makes knives of the walk to work.
Walking back home, and the night feels magnificent, a huge thing that has opened itself up; a myriad of previously locked rooms and wings unfolding themselves from previous narrow corridors. The stars are hidden behind clouds, but I imagine they taste of all the iced-over pools of January childhoods.
It felt like, this first evening of what feels like winter, coming home. There is a relief in the plunging temperature, the rumours of snow, the far-off streets as unreachable now as gods or last nights dreams.