Five P.M. and the moon’s already high
Shivering in the doorway waiting
For the dogs to come back in
Skin can’t decide whether to
Break out or flake off
I can’t decide whether
My medication is fine or
If I need a SAD lamp
All the mugs of hot tea and
Soft enveloping comforters in the world
Can’t break the feeling that
An avalanche is piled against
The outside door, and no one is coming
There is no steadfast Saint Bernard with a
Fluffy coat and a keg of brandy