Bugs + Barriers

We talk about the city lights at Christmas twirling in the square until the feeling of being teleported takes hold and we cannot see where we are going. Piano notes of let it snow are a lost melody what was a white static of drifting down snow is a washed wall of white. When can we stop spinning? Will arrive where we are meant to be? What if we stop and are left right where we started standing. Then will we spin again or wait until next year? Is there magic in the first snowfall or in the wish of us spinning?

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I eat bug and I am fine
not any bug, I am selective
Candy little bugs is what I look for
Typically tucked beneath the fold of a petal
It is not about sustenance by any means
Three square meals a day keep me lean
The reasons are even, to me, a little unclear
But ultimately the outcome, what matters,
is I am fine.

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Down drops the low temperatures
Giant air pockets of degrees
that we step into as if stepping
into a water droplet
the barrier quickly sealing
around us as we pop into
the low pressure system

barrier breaking small pressure
sealing membrane, in we go in we go

entering into something that safely seals
enclosed and home
build me a box no matter what
any amount of walls as long as
they connect and inside I
will sit calmly waiting for the end