wolves howl

winter is
an emaciated
old wolf
teeth bared
just outside
the door
as another
storm of
the century
lays waste
to holiday
as they blow
across the
empty highway

i watch it
shivering on
the couch
wishing for
a pot of coffee
dressed in
layers and
flinching each
time the
heat kicks on

i remember
when winter was
just a pup
in the fresh
fields of snow
dressed in
plastic bag
lined moon boots
barely able
to bend my
limbs in the
cocoon of
snow pants and
thick jacket
scarf and gloves
red cheeked
snot running
as it nipped
at my clumsy heels

now we both sit
rheumy eyed stares
doing our best
to pretend the
other isn’t there
two mangy beasts
much better left
to idealized
memories as the
actuality of
our current state
is borderline
pathetic catastrophe

there aren’t any
snow days for when
everything falls
to pieces and
old wolves prowl
sensing an easy
festive feast of
frozen fools and
fermented fallacies

just the memories
of hot cocoa in
little hands
interlaced with
still frames of
this silent
in stagnated


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