Numbered Days

 

02/26/2019, 0600, -22 Celsius or Fahrenheit
matters naught, either way the mathematical
conversion equals ice.

I push my tootsies into felt lined “Joan of Arctic”
boots temperature rated to -32 C (-25 F)
and squint into the morning’s sub-zero blast,

dream of the day spring brings a new
numerology. We count on Pi Day to celebrate,
defrosting last summer’s cherries sweetened

beneath a warm crust. Until then, I trundle
past the Christmas tree the garbage men forgot
in January, still hidden under its snow sarcophagus.

pi

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