Cold Stretch

There's a breeze slicing through
This suburban canyon,
And the sun is too hazy
To warm the flesh.
My gloves are ratty--
The stitches are loosening--
And if only the wind
Would let up for a while,
I could take off the ear muffs.
It's milder in Seward
Than here in Dee Cee;
For this is the topsy-turvy New Earth,
Where summers are broilers
And winters--deep freezers,
And the moderate spells flicker by in a snap.