Winter's Last Bark

Southwesterly Winds blew through Stagger Street.

 We drove to the airport to say goodbyes.

Cold temperature rendered teardrops to sleet.

Blue sleet froze, turning raindrops into ice.

Our dreams still intact but questions arise

About sunny decisions on the brink

Of turning to drizzle before our eyes,

As fast as we grab the courage to think.

Forty eight hours before birthing day

How deeply you breathed during creation

How much you despise an airport delay

That torments your purpose with frustration.

Neither of us will sleep warmly tonight

As winter's last bark has turned into bite.