January Showers Bring...Cold Puddles.

New York, you are no match
for the power
of the puddle.

Ice chunks float,
like a mini Alaska on every corner.

Fog snips off the tops of the skyscrapers,
like they left on their sleep masks this morning,
and said,
No freaking way I'm getting up for this.

The Manhattan bridge turned on her lights two hours early.
In surrender.
We give up.
Let us go home early.

The Brooklyn Bridge stands firm.
No lights.
A silent sentinel, at 3 p.m.

Hello slush,
you are cold precipitation not used in any sport.
So there.

But,
little kids are drawn to puddles,
like laser beams or magnets.
And it makes me laugh.