Paltry bit of powder—
the first snow.
A peek through the curtain
dawn is on fire
coming up the tree line;
but you are cold, unsettled—
reaching for a coat to cover
your worries rising faster
than daylight and why
is it Friday, again,
every time you turn around.
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Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty years published writer in all genres. Her current project is an Off-Broadway Play on the subject of art and life.
