Beseech the day with tired eyes
for want of strife and toil,
From woeful cries at fitful tries
to burn the midnight oil.

Lament the bitter winter winds
that chill you to the bone
Air that pricks at brittle skin
its kiss as cold as stone.

Kick yourself for feeling stuck,
in traps that plague your plight.
Invectives hurled at rotten luck
that steals your sleep at night.

But whatever form your anger takes
be mindful of its reach.
Heed the blameless in its wake
and modulate your speech.

For wrath begets its own regret
when left unchecked to roam
in rooms to whom, let’s not forget,
enclose the hearth of home.

So deliquesce your sad affections,
disperse that mental fog.
Strike a kind and soft inflection
and speak sweetly to your dogs.