Posted in Cascade

Problem Solving

The floor is cold beneath my toes
when on this chilly morn I rise.
My slippers are beyond my reach,

well-hidden in a canine game.
I ask for help, yet sound they sleep
when on this chilly morn I rise.

With no commitments on my plate,
I stand unsure of what to do.
My slippers are beyond my reach,

the sock drawer is too far away.
I crawl back into bed because
the floor is cold beneath my toes.

© Susan Schoeffield

Posted in Monorhyme

Born To Be A Beach Bum

A side effect of getting old
is hating winter’s frigid cold.
If such a thing is somewhere sold,
I wouldn’t flinch, if truth be told,
to pay the highest price in gold
and have these frozen temps controlled
by blazing sunshine, hot and bold,
while endless summer days unfold.

© Susan Schoeffield

As evening temperatures continue to dip into single digits over the next several days, I can’t help daydreaming about wonderful, warmer climes.

Posted in Sedoka

Blustery Battle

Layers are my armor.
I’m protected from the cold
until wind gusts pierce my shield.

No weapons worthy
of quelling these bitter foes,
I succumb to chilling fate.

© Susan Schoeffield

There are certainly places with worse wind chills than Baltimore has today, but I’m a big baby and I hate being cold.