Cold Front

When a cold front arrives,
it’s conspicuous.
Whole trees sway.
Leaves and chimes are moved to music.

Cats and coyotes cry
at dawn. They sound
like children in peril.
Or demons.

I am a prisoner watching
from morning’s window.
Listening to the cries
of the lost and hungry.

Slipping out of blankets,
I am grounded
on a floor of ice.
Foggy but steady,

I step in slow motion
toward my daily routine—
silent and desensitized,
in striped fuzzy socks.

World Wind Chart for July August & September. Figure 144 from Admiralty Navigation Manual Vol 1 (1938)

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