Metro Dogs

Morning wakes up with the silence of snow.
A gentle breeze carries the winter-worn crow.
Buildings cramp tired, to savour the heat,
Of the little people inside, resting under their sheets.
The Russian winter is a calming scene.

Clock hands stretch early when the sunrise hits seven,
And on the weekend they nap till the later hour of eleven.
Women packed plush, pace their way to the stores,
With the men and the children already at chores.
The Russian winter is a relaxing routine.

Cars form ant trails from bird's eyes at noon.
Metro dogs run smart through the Metro Tycoon.
Sounding horns create a cacophony that roars within,
The crowded lanes of Moscow; the frosty city herein.
The Russian winter is a fragile machine.

Stripes orange and black fly their way back home,
To vintage moving pictures on the sets of monochrome.
A hearty and happy stomach lulls their bodies to sleep.
And snowflakes lay down to end the cold year's sweep.

The Russian winter is a beautiful Thing.

Caroline Schmiermann
7/11/13