I'm
up North,
where the birds hide in barns
in which the farmers store hay
for the cattle that are born and raised on their farms
and daylight on occasion sheds some little light,
but it still feels like midnight at noon.

Cheeks are pinched red by the harsh winds that blow
and the shoulders of people I know are all hunched
It's like the Quasimodo show.

But I love it, the sights and the sound
it feels like popcorn and lemonade
spinning and sloshing around in my mind.