Surviving wintertime
is like trying to
strangle a porcupine.
Those beetle eyes
stare into yours, determined.
Does it even have a neck?
you think, as you try to
end this terrible encounter.
Its long quills stab at your chest,
icy needles piercing your
thin nylon jacket.
And when you finally give up
and fling the spiky critter to the
ground,
you will look down at your
unfeeling fingertips,
dripping your happiness
into the now steaming snow.
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