Hunches to prepare
scurries through the ice-cold wet
arrives, feet sodden.
"Epitome of Cool"
Through the icy mist
he walks, exhaled smoke swirls 'round
his calm, stubbled face.
Side-bar, this post was meant to follow the previous one in close succession. If you waited this long to read these poems, then you should be sainted, or at least rewarded with a coin bearing my image. (That was a Jane the Virgin reference. You may, or may not, be welcome.)