Unpredictable, my private weather
brings me fits of chills and flares of heat,
storms of rain and thunder-growling temper.
Nighttime season-shift: my icy feet
now kick the covers off and gasp for air
because they’re drowned in sweat. A pleasant change
from always wearing sweaters everywhere—
but makes me find myself a little strange.
I know what’s causing it: the silver streaks
that frame my temples, spreading spots on backs
of hands, the wrinkles falling round my neck.
This is a tranquil time, in most respects,
but just to keep me guessing (I suspect)
there’s personal climate-change in effect.
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