Winter winds bite through
layers of wool and cotton
as the season descends upon us.

That harsher season, inviting
the blues, amplified by the world's
concentration and pre-occupation
with the turning of the clocks into a
new century, a new millenium
(yeah, yeah, I know it
doesn't start until 2001)
and of course, simply
a New Year
set to remind us that time
slips through our fingers like water
thick and heavy at times, but flowing
nonetheless, pushing, pushing, pushing
inexorably forward, our lives
simple rafts being buffeted by the
shifting tides.


Have you told ®
you are boycotting them this season yet?
What are you waiting for?