it's dark when you leave.
dark when you get home.
people are dressed
like eskimos, but it's
only fifty out
with a chance of rain.
scarves and hats,
even gloves are on.
we are already there
in our heads, in the thick
of it, a winter storm.
there's a man over there
with a snow shovel
looking up
at the sky. a woman
throwing salt down.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment