Filtering thorough
through and through
threw to me
and into two
and three are layers which shield me from
the bitter which comes with the cold
and happy am I in the wind
which batters me
and gusts within
makes my eyes water
and my head spin
with morons bitching
frozen skin
they all are freezing
none know why
they're wearing shorts and thin sweaters
but alas, would die
if they were required
for just one moment
to look at a weather report
and plan accordingly
the way they dress
when it is chilled in the air
but I suppose
their heads are filled with air
and in the joy and gluttony of their incessant whining
they have simply ceased to care
and are sadly unaware
that a first-world problem
is the selfie you cannot take
because the beautiful
glorious
sorcerer's wind
is trying to free your choking hair