Stinging January Morning Poem by anais vionet

I saw Sting in the lobby this morning, we were going out and he was coming in. Lisa nudged me, "Sting" was all she whispered. He was with a woman and a man. The woman was talking to the doorman. Sting was dressed all in black except for a long stark-white cashmere scarf, he was chatting and working a dark-gray French-flat-cap around in his hands. His hair is very short and white.

We wanted to walk in the snow, if only for a minute.
A gust of wind caught us as we reached the sidewalk. The two American flags, on either side of the entrance, went rigid, at 9-o'clock as if saluting us. "Jeeez! " I said, like the Georgia girl I am - or was. "Don't be a baby, " Lisa answered, like a true, pittyless New Yorker but her cheeks had turned a child-like pink. She flipped up her collar.

I patted my pocket, relieved to feel my phone and know that if we froze to death the authorities could use "find my friends" to locate our bodies.

Leeza joins us a moment later and I can't help but notice that she's dressed like it's a cool fall day. Back in the day, when my brother would dress like summer even though temperatures in Georgia had dipped cruelly into the fifties. Seeing him, my mom would say, "Where there's no sense, there's no feeling, " but I don't.

"Did you see Sting? " I asked Leeza (12) . She gives me a blank look. "Sting", I said, "the lead singer for The Police? " I add, as clarification. "I don't know who that is, " she says flatly. "He was famous, " I say in surrender, "a long time ago, in the 90s." Maybe the next generation won't be as celebrity driven.

Thank God Lisa suggested I pin my artist-beret down or it would have blown away, like my resolve to walk in the snow. Still, I followed Lisa into the park like a cat on a leash - unwilling to be seen as any less Canadian.

The show crunched like we were trampling over snow-cones. Trees began turning away the wind as we entered Central Park, "I think we may survive." I said. Just because you're freezing to death doesn't mean you can't be ​​affable.

Why don't pigeons freeze to death - I thought birds went south for the winter?