When people meet our Project Manager BJ they can likely immediately use a number of words to describe him (e.g. clown-like, fun, funny, weird, not weird mostly, smart, good even great at managing projects) - "introspective" and "poetic" however may not be at the top of the list. I think the poem below, composed this week, gives us a different look at our Project Manager Next Door.
This morning I woke to a cold frosty day.
I never mind the cold much anyway.
I take a bath and comb my hair.
I pick my clothes out with some care.
I have my smoothie and my pill.
Then bundle up for the chill.
I wrap my feet with two pairs of socks.
Tie on my scarf with double knots.
Choose a hat with a puff on top.
I’ll wear two coats to be quite hot.
Grab my boots and lace them tight.
Now I’m ready for winter's bite.
I step outside and feel the air.
The weather man was right to care.
My eyes start to hurt, my cheeks turned bright red.
My hat slipped right off my head.
My toes curled up and fingers hurt.
I should’ve worn a thicker shirt.
My ears start to burn, my blood starts to slow.
I start to think I shouldn’t go.
I decide to stay and turn around.
But my boots are frozen to the ground.
I can’t get to work and can’t make it home.
My final words are this poem.
I froze to death and here’s the thing.
I won’t thaw out until the Spring.