the cold is never present, to say it's

a complete absence implies it has been

present.

though the obvious must be stated--it's

cold out there.

which sounds like the telepathy of

corpses.

even so--I put out some leftover

cornbread from Thanksgiving for the

birds, was meaning to ever since.

they must eat my sister's thoughts, now

that it's the eve of Christmas Eve.

what's more, the back of my fridge can

preserve a brighter white.

a part of me believes winter birds are

"out there" at night, do as cold does.

couple that with preholiday inner

monologues & we might have something.