Maine, poetry, winter

What passes for poetry at 3am


My toes are cold
My nose is cold
My fingers are cold
And so are my hands.

The cold woke me out of a sound sleep.
Even with my wool socks on.

I want to turn the furnace up but
oil is too damned expensive.

Fucking winter.

6 thoughts on “What passes for poetry at 3am”

  1. Not a cold weather fan, eh? I like the stuff myself. One of my favorite things “when I wore a younger man’s clothes” was a tramp in the woods during or just after a snowfall, especially at night.

    But I sobered up a few years ago.

    One wonders why you call Maine home?

  2. I don’t usually mind winter. But this year I do. Don’t ask me why, ’cause I don’t know.

  3. hooseiertoo, I just don’t like the cold weather in my house and the sound it makes as it sucks the money from my bank account…..

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