I gasp into a scarf.
The cold hits me
Like a nurse striking a newborn.
First a breath, then out,
my air appears like smoke.
"Put on gloves, or you'll get frostnip.
Go shopping now
before they run out of bread."
I gave up misty autumns in the Bay
for ice-slick roads?
Then snowflakes appear,
stirred by the wind.
Here is a paradise,
wrapped in a puffer coat:
Land of milk and honey, and cappuccinos.
