Solemn Saturday Morning

Aches in the bones, moving slowly, my body refuses to cooperate
Sick and sad over the cold weather; it's frigid out there waiting
White winds blow white snow over white roads -- white
The grey skies sit against heavy trees, laden with yesterday's batch.
Twisted slivers of air, cold shards of temperature, ever dropping

Except when it warms to snow. The supermarkets are full
of shoppers trying to miss the weather, bundled up like
yesterday's babies, blocking the aisles, hogging the warmth.
I stand looking at boxes of fabric softener.

Later, at home,
I count my books and avert my gaze from the windows.
Snow on the window ledge only strengthens the ache.

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