Army boots slip a dozen Times (the poem)

 

Army boots slip a dozen times
on the sidewalk recently scraped
falling flat on the back
nothing cracked

Over the bridges and through the park
making way before daylight turned dark
the frostbitten souls
weren't into fire tossed
hooligans fussed
nothing chilling was lost

Lines of travellers
inside open doors
where minutes of warmth bought
respite from freezing cold

Into the streets from tents set alone
degrees below zero
it wasn't  homeless in Nome
frozen breath ice crystal shown

With existential memories of ledges
and snow covered hedges
seven thousand endangered wolves sharing
an Archipelagos' snairs

Infrared sensors and game cams eschew
freedom of the homeless to find places to be
when insiders own every magnified clue
to locate the homeless yet free

Anchorage for lives in the waning winter
when spring sun grows stronger
over charcoals like sinter
with darker days gone past.