We had a cold spell last week. Bone chilling for this time of year. I suppose by February, the same temperatures might seem like a thaw, but it reminded me of a poem Dave wrote a few years ago.

On January 1, 2001, I woke with the intention to write a poem every day. Dave decided to do the same. We didn’t make it much past April, but for a while, we kept at it. We wrote some real bad poetry, but a couple of cool ones emerged. I like the imagery in this one:

February 20, 2001

Cold. And there’s colder.
Then there’s simply the intolerance of any more cold.
That’s when you push back from the table and say:
“No more, thanks. I’ve had enough.”

But the cold just sneers its icy disdain and sits there.
“Have some more,” it says. “Here, let’s just refreeze that
bit of water that’s accumulated on your front walk.”

I wait for the sun. Huddled in my blanket.