Winter's breath stinks of coal and car fumes
Heavy it rests on the roofs of houses.
Trees are blackend arteries.
In the greyscale smudged edges
A defiant contrast of pallet looks stupid.
Blending in will keep you warm.
Zip up that big black coat and walk.
Toy diggers left by children, wait on the kerb.
Puddles store the night,
damp moss and muck
colonise the footpath
and the road is riddled with holes. 
Cocky drivers steer with one finger
in, around and out of this small town.
Rushing to join the traffic jam
It's a supermarket boom these days, 
that’s where everybody is.
Only pubs and charity remain and the post office. 
The factories are still there,
although the work has long gone.
And still the fires burn.