Winter's Last Bark
By ice rivers
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.