Stardusting

timidly, I’m wary to draw my breath

reluctant in the bare steel chill

that catches my throat like a razor,

both nostrils raw and sore, 

sting as my breath billows, 

puthering like cooling tower steam,

it’s the first snowfall and our

fragile world typically 

grinds to a halt whining,

the dusting is early this year

climate change no doubt but

February might be tropical,

in the meantime, it’s hot soup

sourdough toast

and looking back curiously

over old words

*

Graham R Sherwood 12/22