Unprepared

A darker day grows grey and cold. Behold the icy mass, the crass and unforgiving chill that bows to no lighter step or salty precaution; it’s us who cower and slip upon its glazy eye with which it weeps a blackened sheet beneath its white mascara. Fall victim to the winter’s eye and cry your neatly frozen tears to a howling air of disregard, for nobody here can hear nor see you ‘neath their many furs and shoes not made for Winter.