Eight South

a few days after his cardiac arrest
a new brittle air blew in from the northwest
pure but unforgiving
his refuge warm and bright
well insulated from those wicked winds
blasts that the rest of us
cannot avoid

his came early

tightly wrapped we trudge on
into a milky sevenfold squall
while he rests in thin bedclothes
restless from his storm within
oblivious (for now)
to the ones swirling outside around him