Chicago

The old panes

Barely keep the wind out

Frost builds at the edges

Offering me the crazy notion

Of scooping it out to make

A snow cone

In January

But warm blankets

 wool socks

and hot tea

beckon me

to lay beside

a fat cat who wants to be

curled up and asleep

at my knee

tossing to the freezing

gale 

my despair and my doubt

Winter 2000