The stars above me
offer no warmth,
they are
of little comfort.

I am in the danger zone,
out on the perimeter,
dug in deep
like an Eskimo
in an ice fortress.
The winds have made my nose run,
frozen snot covers my beard,
my eyes tear constantly,
making it hard
on the night-vision.

Occasionally,
I see streaming jet-lights,
an airliner in the stratosphere,
zipping across the Heavens,
out of harm’s way.

And I think about the cocktails,
the pretty stewardesses
gathered back near the galley,
it makes me warm
& crack a weak-smile.