With so much talk about weather I wonder if it's human nature to be captivated with it and constantly communicate about it. So a weather-related poem:
shielding all but the eyeballs
feet sink into the floor.
White cold slithers up far
past the measured drifts before.
With teasing all because
weather's all that's on my mind
tell the warmth-protected skeptics
they're welcome to rewind
a silent blizzard unaffecting
those with cars that sleep indoors
but trek past all those without roofs
- windchill cuts deep, heart implores.
LyndiaP November 23, 2010 (PoemADay 23 of 30)