Eleven Chicago winters—
digging cars out of drifts, trudging
to the el stop, thawing ourselves
in smoky bars—no idea how
California January
shines, wildflowers and green hillsides,
randy house finches singing
on tangerine branches.
tonight, a snowstorm led the news
everywhere but here; I walked with
no coat to fetch ice cream sundaes,
no idea how this is not a dream