[ December 6, 2009]

Even in November
So hard to remember
How cold comes December.
The air at twenty one
Invisible serpents
Able to squeeze through pores
Freezing us inside out
Puts hoar-frost on hair tufts
Extrusions from old ears.
Molecules of air still
As soldiers waiting
For whistles sending them
Over the top to kill.
No amount of layers
Can keep the cold at bay.
It will be here till May
Six and a half months hence
Omnipresent factor
Touching daily choices
Forcing us to account,
No exceptions made
By political stripe
Race, creed or hair color,
We trudge in heavy boots
Laden in bulk parkas
Make love in flannel sheets,
Count all the days ahead
Convinced this hastens
Time’s move to snowless ground.