Everything is harder
in the winter.
Not just the ground
frozen beneath the snow
but the effort everyone must make
just to move from the front door
to the mailbox,
which may or may not contain a letter
that will change your life or a bill
impossible to pay.
Layers of fleece and flannel
have become your cocoon
and it’s so much easier to eat pasta
three days in a row
than to shovel the drive
so you can make it to the grocery
to buy milk and bread and whiskey—
which, these days,
never seems hard enough.

DeMaris Gaunt

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