Thank You Sneakers

Baby it's cold out here!  (This is why all the smarter birds fly southerly.) As only my eyes peer out for public view, the rest of me ensconced in numerous layering, looking very nonchalant, nature's animals staring at me with such frank bewilderment and curiosity, as if any explanation of mine would even sound logical. " Writers block," I mutter from beneath my facemask. A good cold run gets rid of the sluggishness; as I drop old thoughts down the storm drain half a lifetime and another world away. Standing in bareness, soaking up approval from the cold air, skin now a glow with frostbite. Something warm and giddy emerges from within, solitude rejuvenates me, and the warmth of creative juice begins to once again, flow. Somewhere, there is satire that is yearning to quench my palette, pausing for a moment, mesmerized by the solace of morning’s light and a vastly cold wet sweat now lodged within my sneakers.