Tonight comes cold
A quarter bright moon
Purchases a silvery

Sentient moment
Upon the wet sidewalks and
The roads

The overflowing pond
And mud soaked path

Glisten soft

Underneath the vegetation
Resting, seeking
Refuge from winter storms

"Cold is relative," I used to tell my father
(When pressed upon for a weather report)
He, in Utah
I, in California

This chilly night
A night on the California coast
Far from the high deserts of Utah

I can question the competence
The wisdom of assigning
Degrees to the
Reality of a mercurial justice

The simplicity of heartache
The kindness of community
The communal kindred of friends

The days that pass

Like still thermometers
Hung on porches

Waiting to catch
The many measured

Days of warmth

This cold theory of relativity