Colder today, swaddled in overcoats worn once a year,
The pretty girls strut the street in a new layer of fashion
While children run in blazers instead of cotton dresses.
The hum of waiting taxis muffled by the winter morning,
My stockinged feet grow cold as I watch from the balcony.
The Christmas tree is still lit up, defying luck and custom,
This lip of life on the flaming horse briefly liveable.
And the haze of Hong Kong’s skyline finally breathable,
I inhale the crisp, chill air like a sailor two years at sea
Returning to his homeland, and yet to dream of China.
— Hong Kong, January 2026
• • • • •
A Communist in Hong Kong 