Thinking Outside the Icebox


The raindrops cling to spider limbs of trees
like diamond pussy willows upside down.
The heavens glower heavy in the east
while western light is mounting, but the frowns
the folks exhibit as they drive in storm
will never find a home upon my face;
the chill of winter walking makes me warm,
and rain is what I love about this place.

Why do they drive as if they’re getting wet,
when I am walking at my normal speed?
And how is it so many are upset
and sad in winter, when the season feeds
my spirit with invigorating cold
and dashes me aware like 5 years old?

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