pain is my teacher

he is living in my leg

lessons come at any time

they are always the same

“me. think on me

brood on me,” he chants

“i am all that matters”

he hates the cold

so i wrap him in ice

to muffle his whining

outside the new snow shines like little clouds

deer move through the drifts heavy with spring’s fawns

morning coffee tastes good

and her smile is always there to greet me

it is another day

i whisper to my teacher

“that’s what matters”