47 degrees is ridiculously cold for Key West.
30+mph winds is breath-taking.
A windchill of 27 degrees? Unheard of.

A poem for warmth by John Greenleaf Whittier, which may be read in full at PoemHunter.

Shut in from all the world without,
We sat the clean-winged hearth about,
Content to let the north-wind roar
In baffled rage at pane and door,
While the red logs before us beat
The frost-line back with tropic heat;
And ever, when a louder blast
Shook beam and rafter as it passed,
The merrier up its roaring draught
The great throat of the chimney laughed;
The house-dog on his paws outspread
Laid to the fire his drowsy head,
The cat's dark silhouette on the wall
A couchant tiger's seemed to fall;
And, for the winter fireside meet,
Between the andirons' straddling feet,
The mug of cider simmered slow,
The apples sputtered in a row,
And, close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October's wood.

I am so happy to have our reverse-cycle air conditioner. We have heat! The library does not. The orthodontist does not. Publix does not. I am wearing pants and three shirts to work tonight.
Socks too!


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The Poetry Friday roundup can be found here at A Year of Reading. Enjoy!