Bus Stop

[Semicircle]

Darker
than the iris 
February spoke
in knots ‘round the night.  It would really help me understand the intention of the poem, for me, if you could elaborate on this part.

Snowflakes fall
into the arms of a street light It's hard for me to imagine light as arms.
becoming fluorescent and orange:
becoming embers
for a moment.

The metal bodies This is the backbone of the story. Tying to reality.
of buses and cars
cackle, burn oil
and pass.

Cold cheek of the year turning, cliche
soon, soon, all feet will be washed lovely ending.

This poem was calming for me, but also slightly ominous. 
I'm left wondering what change is taking place at the bus stop.

Thanks for the read,
Sc.