Wednesday Word: Winter

Freezing temperatures
I shiver under layers
Of sweat shirts, sweaters.

This morning it is cold in Las Vegas. It is now about 9:20 am, the temperature at 8:56 am was 49 degrees predicted to raise to 50 degrees by 10:00 am. Sometime today, the temperature is supposed to get as high as 61 degrees. I am wearing a sweater, a sweat shirt, and a pair of slacks, which should keep me warm. I am not warm. My arms are cold. My legs are cold. Worst of all, despite the fact that I am wearing shoes and socks, my feet are cold. The only part of me that is not cold is my head and my ears.

The arctic express
blowing through Las Vegas
drives locals indoors.

Spring is still sixteen long and cold days away. I am complaining about the cold. Last summer, when it was so hot, I said I would never complain about the cold. I know I shouldn't have said that, but I said it in triple digit temperatures when the thought of double digit temperatures seemed like a distant dream. I am so cold that triple digit temperatures sound nice. Of course, when summer comes with its 115 or 120 degree temperatures I will wish for 45 or 50 degree temperatures.

Cold penetrates the
marrow of my bones and chills
internal organs.

I really should be thankful for the winter temperatures and the wind chill factor because they both inspire poetry, rants, and short stories. Winter, like the other three seasons, is inspiring. The temperatures inspire creative ways of keeping warm or cool. They inspire creativity in all areas of life because you always have unreasonable power bills draining your finances. If I could afford it I would run the central air unite twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year; however, I am on a fixed income and cannot afford high power bills.