biting wind
ferocious damp
chill permeating
bone, soul and sinew
a day most ideal
for sitting near the fire
with a nice cuppa tea
steaming bowl of stew
pattering rain
has shattered
doggy’s daydream
of a walk in the park
she sniffed misted air
never leaving the stoop
retreating post haste
to the warmth of her bed
her loud snoring belies
a lack of disappointment
some days are not meant
for walks after all
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