Walking in Winter
Early morning waking, 
two cats in the bed.
Early morning shoveling, 
wet snow below, bright sun above. 
 
Afternoon dilemma: nap or walk?
Snow and ice or quilt and cat? 
Am I 70 years old? 
Or 70 years strong? 
 
Bed beckons but I resist, 
choosing blue skies, bright sun, 
snow and slop and ice, 
and Yak Trax. 
 
Last time I tried these ice-biters,
I hated them. 
But I am older now, and need
insurance for old bones. 
 
Or so I think.
In half a block, the first one falls off. 
Another block before I notice,
and retrace my steps to find it.  
 
Carrying their failed coils, I continue, 
down wet streets, through puddled alleys. 
I'm 70 strong and, dammit, 
I am gonna walk. 

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