A January Fling
Sure there’s bitter air
torturing the tree tops.
So many sharp edges,
you could cut yourself breathing.
And the dark is closing in on all sides,
a million sides at last count.
But if I clap like the shutters,
excuse my exuberance.
If I howl like the wind,
then howl along with me.
Outside,
it’s twenty below
which is ten thousand below
what we feel.
So shall we
stroll out into the fields,
expose the chilly stars
to beams of warming light.
Shall we give love
a trail to follow...
a line of footprints
in the snow.
I’ve jackets enough.
I’ve stamina enough.
It’s only weather after all.
And when does weather
ever get the girl?
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Orbis, Dalhousie Review and Connecticut River Review. His latest book, “Leaves On Pages,” is available through Amazon.
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