how brutal is Mother Nature, dusting us in the bitter cold
of winter so abruptly, with nary a moment to adjust.
studded snow tires still in the basement, the oil frozen in
the brake lines, even the bicycle has had no time to
dress for the weather, the heat upstairs barely there,
the plumber still busy installing furnaces from the flood.
it's cold up here, the shades drawn, the lip plate on my
flute frigid and unwelcoming.
Winter is not just coming, it is here.
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