It's time to catch snowflakes on your tongue
But each unique, frozen formation of water
Melts near your mouth warm from whiskey.
Last night's hurrah left your breath hot
With a hangover and your belly of a cauldron
Boiling over some internal furnace;
Be careful to not let it froth over the pot's top.
Although you feel like hell, you should go out
In this weather, it's cold enough to quell
Any inferno, and I bet the breeze feels good
Against your forehead, aching like a headband
Worn too tight.


Mid-afternoon flurries with low visibility.
Thanks Mr. Weatherman for the obvious update,
But I've acknowledged the outside world
With a slight nod through the window.
I guess some people need to know though,
Those people who live blindly as hermits.
Those people who say, "I've got a great view,"
But live in basements with safety block glass
To let the light in when the Sun is in position.
Otherwise, I guess, they're left in the dark.
Yet, it's grey days like these, that there's no difference.