Stepping outside I stop myself from clenching, from hunching, from shrinking from the cold.
Standing more upright, I notice the pale grey of sky
beyond the grating whirr of a rubbish truck and the man in a black jacket walking briskly with a cup of coffee
and I remember how big and full and overflowing the moon looked
first thing this morning when I stepped outside.
Praise be for cups of coffee.