November, Not so Blue

Cold cold, blue topped mornings,
not so blue.
When the crystals
meet
the
concrete.
When the nerves,
wired to the toes
lose connection,
sensation, dulled.

Engines of all,
engines of many,
ignition, dulled.
Fortunate
we are.
That it
didn’t
rain.
Fortunate we are,
for socks and shoes.
Fortunate we are
for skies that wrestle,
a crystal blue.

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