Ah, I miss my friends Olivier5 and tsar of Brooklyn.
Here's another by "the jester" and a poem:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwSZvHqf9qM
My daughter called and told me it was five degrees in West Virginia.
Now, the poem that say it right about cold:
Emily Dickinson:
A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him, — did you not,
His notice sudden is.
The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.
He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,
Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun, —
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.
Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;
But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.
