If I were to imagine what a drink feels like
it would be the rain in Humboldt County.
A blanket of cold falling upon me,
eventually making its way to my ears
never letting up, my vision is fog.
Hazy, unrelenting
until the glass becomes a mug
of hot cider, releasing me from the
reality of a stone-cold winter.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 11:49 AM UTC
If I were to imagine what a drink feels like
it would be the rain in Humboldt County.
A blanket of cold falling upon me,
eventually making its way to my ears
never letting up, my vision is fog.
Hazy, unrelenting
until the glass becomes a mug
of hot cider, releasing me from the
reality of a stone-cold winter.
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