The house is freezing, it feels like the pasta has been in the fridge forever, there may be a snowstorm somewhere but not here, the clouds have imprisoned any sunbeam from reaching us while the bureau of immigration and customs enforcement couldn't stop birds from migrating despite they forced a two month delay.
Human breath could move a steam engine today and it's making it hard to tell when someone is just smoking. Nevertheless, I wish the river froze, tap water got stuck, children stayed home facing a free day due to a whim, sudden impulse, of Cailleach Béirre. It won't though.
Frozen as your frozen lips this morning, I reached my boiling point.
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