Poem: Runs Hot and Cold

-

 I muse to myself
that I'm in the wrong profession.
I should've been a meteorologist. 

Yesterday was seventy-seven degrees
Today is thirty degrees cooler
The thermometer is confused. 

I feel the air pressure drop
in my joints
and in my muscles.

My ring clings tighter
to my finger
as if pleading not to let go.

It runs hot and cold
I wish Nature would hurry
and make up its mind.

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