What else can I say? It’s been a long, cold winter.
St. Valentine’s Day, 2015
— or, Eighteen Below and Falling
So cold for so long,
the air itself is brittle—
if you walk out the door,
you risk cracking it,
causing it to sprinkle
in tinkling shards at your feet.
The wind is busy, buffing
the world, you’d think,
to a high-gloss sheen at least.
But no, the interminable sky-wall
has a thick matte finish.
Nothing shiny or spectacular
hangs in the air. The weatherman
confirms it, announcing,
“Filtered sunlight prevails.”
Even Eros has donned
parka and mukluks.
Civilizations Converge in Modern Poetry
RELATED LINKS (Poems, Places, Books, Videos, Events, and Other Resources):
Mukluks and other Arctic Clothing
Sorry, but this sums up the coming couple of weeks. Not bad if you live west of the great plains.