Here's the beginning of a poem...

She likes it when it's snowing.
It quiets cacophonus streets.
The barking dogs below us still
And watch the busy white intently.
My coffee mug is steaming
And warms the table beneath,
As suicidal flakes dive in
And swim a hastened lap while melting.

There's no place else I'd rather be right now;
A half-step of pristine on a serrated mile.
I don't want to consider forever out here...
Just to relish the cold and your smile.




Man, I love cold mornings on the porch. Do you?

Peace,
Justin