The wind chill’s minus twenty-six,
The
kind of cold, they say,
Where
frostbite can occur if you
Go
out to face the day.
The
mountain’s where my brother lives
So
he knows what to do
To
keep the fires stoked in case
The
gusts come sneaking through.
I
can’t relate to temps like that,
But
Nature makes the rules
And
those who don’t bow down to her
Are
nothing more than fools.
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