In the midwest river valleys,
those second, third and twenty-eighth
winters catch us all off-guard.
Not just the insects
and the overzealous plants
that want to pop themselves out
of the secure blanket of soil
a tad too early, either.

There are those of the dark
and desperate. The ones blending
into shadows at the edge
of our vision. Those lured from hibernation
by the early season jubilance,
hunger kick-started
and glands hidden in the hanging
folds of looped jowls booted
into high gear.

Those left tapping on glass
grown opaque with outstretched tendrils
of crystalline condensation,
their ragged, hooked talons shaking
with bitter chills as ropy, bared pale skin
leaks meager remnants of warmth
into the hungry atmosphere.

Maybe you could consider
being cool for once.
Leaving the door
or window
or clothes dryer vent
open a little for a change.
You have that fluffy new duvet
to curl up under, after all.
Maybe it will even keep
you safe this time.