because the sun
grows less tolerant
of us, and the fingers of cold come
I must drink more coffee before
I venture out to do all these human things
to keep a grip on a job that holds a tighter grip on me

we live in a gentle place,
but in my 13 years here,
even I have found it to be cold
I have lost my mind of winter,
forgive me , Wallace, it stays preserved
like Viking rations in eastern Oregon snow

the entire city froze in
its tracks last week,
the threat of snow that
came only as a sneeze
of sleet,
even the clouds are laughing at us

I qualified as an old man before
people started telling me I was young,
the sky is gray and heavy enough
my joints swell to birthday balloons ,
the back under my skin a stain glass church window
in the evening , I envelop my wife as I am a coat of frost and melancholy

let the outside world be nothing tonight ,
social concerns and scattered responsibilities
sentenced to hang on the coat rack ,
tonight, let there be only the hiss of a space heater
the solidarity of cats and two people who escaped
into the warmth of together,for a few hours more