Not Well Suited to the Cold
My fingertips are numb. My nails
Are blue; another winter day, and not
One from which I can cower. There
Are places I must go. I'll put on
A down-filled jacket, heavy gloves,
A stocking cap, and, having done so,
I'll survive, but, after I have gotten home
And stripped away those outer garments,
I suspect that my entire fingers will
Have numbed.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck

Read 54 times
Written on 2025-01-21 at 17:13




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