a poem in my pocket

In a frozen land

where temps dip

below nothing,

winds whip snow

across roads to

whirl into ditches

in wavy dunes,

it’s a comfort

to know that

somewhere…

the sky is hot

with flaming clouds

and burning colors,

heat waves rise

from soft asphalt

while the natives

and tourists sweat.

(TweetSpeakpoetry prompt, “Hot Sky”)