Winter, 87

I am warm fire and steam heating
hot coco running down clean skin
and smiles with marshmallow specs.

I am stuffing feet, legs, hands arms
into a suit of fuzzy armor
to do battle with Mr. Winter.

I am snowflakes melting soggy slush
snow angels in the cold red-clay mud
waving arms and legs in repetition.

I am hard packed melting snow man
dropping twig limbs and pinecone buttons
with the Sun's relentless progress.

I am salty roadways and gray water
that runs and stains the passing cars
on a silent Winter's Sunday's eve.

I am snowball volley after volley
in a field of dark wet grass
under a sky of clear blue ice.

I am frozen fingers in wooly mittens
and damp, yet crystal caked, arms
in an oversized overpadded nylon coat.

I am warm in bed with homework undone
and textbooks untouched knowing
the busses will definitely run.