The cold hits as soon as I step out the door.

It snakes around looking for any chink in my armor.

Like an ancient serpent of lore,

or like the whisperings of a heretical saint.

Stay inside, stay inside.

But long before the day begins.

I am off, embracing the flow of endorphins.

As I walk, I think I bet its not this cold in North Carolina.

Thinking of you Peter and Lynn.

© by Dan DeMarle 2009