The new year's just a baby, but its third day was about all of us in this city waking up to snow and such dramatic cold there was no school. No work.
I got up and put one shirt on over another. My only pair of tights with wool and leg warmers the color of a composition notebook.
My sidewalk wasn't shoveled and I liked the sound under my old boots. I made my way through the park; the inside of my sunglasses steamed up.
I remembered that there was a brand new coffee shop--as new as the year--called Box Kite.
Look! Here's me sitting in front of my Box Kite mug. Isn't it just . . . so beautiful? Snow colored. And, you can't see it, but the handle is open ended.
Look! Below another song about winter written and sung by another dead '60s/'70s singer songwriter dude. I can't get enough.