Thomas Willshire’s poem captures that frustrated, deep longing for warmer weather that ascends once winter arrives. Illustration by Katey Harvey.

It’s winter now,
guitars, gardens and sandals,
seem so far away,
almost lost,
amidst drips on noses,
sticky feet,
and skin conditions.

Itch itch itch,
rue gas bills and such,
remembering what a small world it is,
how close the sunshine,
how close the warmth,
the good skin.

But for now it’s winter,
very, very winter.

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