Rust-hued hair

Cold does not see class.

Nor race, religion –

Where you come from,

where you are now

and where you plan to go in the future.

Cold is egalitarian.

Cold is just.

When the trees wake up in a panic

wondering where their rust-hued hair

has gone –

they stand

side by side

with the children, waddling penguins in their parkas

as the school bus is late again.

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