Enough of this misanthropic mist
Tell this menopausal wind
to cease,
desist

--

Forever and a few odd hours
have drawn the barren branches
and their flurry-showers
down into a sparkling white
purgatory
(and me, with them, so snared
by frost that I cannot tell
of spring's sickly warmth
of summer's jealous ecstacy)

Spare me this airborne disease
This delicately chilled influenza
hanging in the bitter breeze

I'd rather melanoma than this
winter wonder(waste)land
It's worth the risk
to have one minute
cooking in the sand.