Outside the mailman moves slowly though snow drifts
everything is bleached, cold
bringing bills and other trash.
Me, looking out with frozen feet
this lack of trust
this crisis of faith.
Bad feelings about 2018
I feel it too
With an edge of urgency
With a sharp tongue
I must compress
No dilly-dallying with the senses,
Get to the point
Before it’s too late.
– Vermont, 1.3.18
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