On A Cold Morning (Poem)

Far too frigid too icy too slick

To step foot outside without extreme cause,

So no one gets to try the new recipe,

Not even the neighbor right next door.

Sip hot tea and desultorily play Scrabble,

Beating the bots by far too much.

More street noise than there should be,

And wonder if these cars’ drivers are driven

By necessity, bravado, or stupidity.

Some combination, most likely.

Heart hurts, and miss her miss her miss her.