Archive 12/30/09 - (5)

   

Forecast

                                                                  

 

This afternoon might be the last time,

For the next three days or so,

That I'll be able to go snowshoeing in the boys' camp,

For a biting, fiercely blowing wind being forecast,

One so vicious,

It can make you feel as if the flesh on your face

Were being peeled away, a layer at a time,

With a blunt scalpel.

 

I need to take advantage, without hesitation,

Of whatever random chances

Nature throws my way, advances me.

I think that now, right this 15.7-degree hour,

I'd better get myself out of this heated cabin,

Revel in one more ecstatic go at the cold,

In the snow-enfolded, pine-silent woods,

Before my eager heartbeat freezes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                               

 

12/30/09 - (5)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
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