Hot Days, Cold Hands**


after much negotiation,
the owners of our (her)
west coast gran kids
agree to a meeting
in a neutral city

a day of great joy,
hugs kisses real life unlimited,
playing pool catch, shark,
(Ian is the ball)
and splashing
in Miami pool warmth
and you don't think about
poetry writing cause you are living
it

this morning two icy lumps,
of coals wake me at 6:15 am,
icy understates their arctic nature,
my poor chest burnt
by frost fingered nails

message in a ten fingered bottle,
freshly drawn from the cold Atlantic

Thank you
they say,
and I reply,

Let us
move south to my warmer climes

6:47am