The Custard Is Always Worth It

The sunshine and thermometer readings brought out the crowd tonight at our local custard shop. Once in the line, however, we all were surprised by the wind. It slid through our clothing and engulfed those who had braved the night in shorts. I was grateful I grabbed my oatmeal stocking cap before I left. Even if because psychologically, I'm sure the furry ball on top adds extra warmth to my head.  

As we waited impatiently in the queue, I observed my fellow customers:

• shuffling,
• jumping, 
• dancing,
• complaining,
• retreating, 
• cuddling, and
• swaying

to prevent the cold from seeping into our bones, which had warmed up during the day.

Whatever action they chose to battle the chill, their wait was worth it. The custard is always worth it.

Car Window Poetry

The highway's
black surface and
white dashes
pull my eye
forward.

Fighting this
optical illusion,
I turn my head right.

Winter ground.
Golden stalks
jutting from the black soil.
Tracks of plowed lines
making patterns where
green will sprout.

Turning my head back center
my eyes encourage
my hands to stretch
for the white and gray
batting that's escaped from
my grandmother's pillow
and floats across the sky.

All this contrasted
against the blue
shows me that
Mother Nature
is ready to
share spring with us soon.