I’m hiding here in Florida
watching the thermometer descend
to 30, bounce, and head toward 60.
Enough to shed my heavy sweater,
bask in a morning pool of sun,
even to venture a foot outside.
There was a wind that blew itself
clean through my bones, damp
and icy as a childhood memory,
but it grew lazy, coughed,
and settled gently in the Gulf Stream.
Florida has that effect.
The TV news reports the woes
of people in a freezing world
beyond my comprehension.
I feel a shirker’s guilt
like that of those who go unscathed
from someone else’s tragedy.
Come summer, I vow to compensate
by stripping down to shorts
and standing in a pool of sweat.
