15 Below
The wind chill is a devilish 15 below today.
You have no feathers nor fat on your bony feet.
They must be cold, holding tight to the railing.
For some reason, you decided to stay behind.
Didn't follow the flock to warmer skies.
Maybe your instincts are not refined enough.
Maybe you're an autistic avian, didn't socially cut it.
Maybe you've been shunned by the blush.
Didn't have the right touch to find a mate.
Didn't put enough wigglers on the plate.
Maybe there's a new crimp or crick in your DNA.
The reason you sit in a bowl of ice today.
Maybe you think I'm a freak with polyester feathers and rubber feet.
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