In a certain faraway land (poetry)

The frost coats my windshield,  ignores the sunrise

my breath a small cloud as I scrape two circles on the glass

one front,  one back  

I imagine you are inside the car

fingers in bright red mittens

wrapped around a mug of coffee,

waiting 

for the horizon to turn blue 

for the defrost to finish its job

for the heater to warm up your feet 

for me 

^{Anisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze}

^{as soon as they are uttered.  Plutarch}