The barometer is falling

That familiar feeling
like the sinking of mercury
is a barometer, I feel
my spirit shrink
as the dark comes on
to put a cloak about me
and drag me down.  Where

did the frost come from
that nips at nose, fingers, toes,
threatens
to seep toward my heart
make me cower before it?

It swirls so before my
eyes I cannot see
the day - clear the
bright blue sky;  firm the
cool Spring breeze;  yet
my vision dims, my

horizons shrink
and I curl in to a bud
hiding from the cold that
can kill.

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