Mixed blessing; now our weather's coming from the south.
That eastern wind, so dry and frigid, pushing through
The door and windows like a disembodied spirit bent on
Wrenching life from anyone with a substantial form, has
Passed. It tries to murder others as this new assailant
Brings us warmer air and freezing rain. Should we rejoice?
We will not perish in the house. Instead, we'll die on icy
Streets as we attempt to find provisions for what's now
A skimpy larder. Which is worse? It's hard to say.
The choice is less than appetizing. We stare at a feeble
Fire, begging spring to come.