White AM

Cold cold cold
in here
a sneeze and a woolen shoe
let me find you two:

things in here so empty and cold
its hard to think on all those
broken folks
who dont have you
unlocking their doors and walking
in.

Of a morning it is
nice to fill this quiet with such musing

the white sky out the top half of the window
really blusters and smacks us
as we watch;

brittle branches moving around
they have no midday meal to speak of

but punish us only
now out
now in
now out for a ramble
dirty sidewalks white
white things.