it’s chilly again
this morning
we had our peek into what
the rest of next season will look like
i could even feel my mood
shifting
upwards
and now it’s cold once more
the dreary, winter sky
the brisk winter air
that slices your face if you don’t cover yourself well
and the hopelessness that accompanies it all
[i wish i could enjoy
anything
about winter
but my soul was made for
anything
but]
it blows into february
the air of awful anticipation on its wing
the cold burning even colder
than january’s sting
at least there’s snow
from the first month’s storm
whitening the ground
providing [minimal] distraction
from second month’s
curse
puppy snoofs
plant droops
kip shivers
first-appointment jitters
calmed by music and poetry
and coffee
March has come in
like the lion it is —
bringing one day of relief,
and then an evening of terror,
followed by a morning
where, once again, it hurts to open my eyes
outside
let’s hope it does
go out like
a lamb
Cold
like Wisconsin was all winter
Cold
the opposite of what’s happening in LA, apparently, with their literal
red
hot
fires
Cold
the temperature outside is below freezing
and the “feels like” temperature is in the
single digits
Cold
but we have a house
and food
and warm warm booties
Cold
but this is only one day
in one week
in one month of one winter
and the days are already getting longer
Cold
and tomorrow may be
Cold
as well, but we’ll survive the
Cold
we will
we will.
hot hot outside
inside so damn cold
even without any a/c
even without the freezing air of summer
in the united states
i wonder how many folks
feel colder in the summer
than the spring and fall
i just want there to be a time of year
when i don’t feel
tragically
mis-taken-care-of
by modern society
or nature
[maybe costa rica really is
the best place to be
for me]
cold face
cold hands
cold toes
cold neck
cold arms
cold legs
cold ears
cold everything
when will it all
become spring?
[a poem for the first full day of winter]
it’s that time of year
where the only dopamine is from the bright decorative lights after the sun sets at 4
and that of the morning sun hitting the frost just so
as i shiver in my own home
[no matter what the heat is set to]
and i can’t help but wish for the brighter days/the warmer ways
that summer months send us
and annoy us
and i would much rather be complaining of too much heat
than even a little bit of cold —
my muscles tighten up in winter,
my whole body stops moving smoothly,
and i can’t can’t cannot get happy
no matter what i do
[i can’t even get into
writing poetry in
the morningtime]
[but at least it gets better from here on out, right?]
though i hate
the cold
with my entire being
there is something lovely
about the coziness
and whoosh
of warmth
it’s been a while
since we’ve turned on
the space heater
designed to
emulate a place with fire
and though i know
sitting right in front
will slightly singe my skin
and the way i sit
will hurt my back
and the floor really isn’t the best
place to be to write these poems
but damn
if it’s going to get cold
outside
the least i can do
is give myself
the little pleasures
that make it all
slightly
bearable
kipventures 