i know it’s cold when
snow trampled underfoot squeaks like rats and
passing faces are barely shadows.
my mind fixates on home heat ducts
wafting easy plumes of lazy saxophone.
Tags: electricity, heat, music, musical instruments, nature, poem, technology, temperatures, weather, winter
I can see the final two lines exactly; it’s an experience all we forced-air types are party to. Fine, fine stuff.
Thanks W.k. I guess we have no choice, but to think in odes to General Electric. It’s the price of being stuck in cold climates, but it warmed up today in Montreal. Felt like spring.
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