Further and Further

Morning is smudged
with all this melting
of briny sludge into
the blue function of winter,
an agreed upon standard
for the naming of time.
I shall remind myself
to head south next year
where the pulse of the weather
beats a warm thrum well into October.
In the meantime: I'll shiver my
timbers in salt-kissed boots; the
white rings around the vamp
are dedicated to that
blank look people get
in this hemisphere
in darkest January. My peeps.