The Winds Are Howling

I hate being stuck inside.
The choice to do what I want has been taken from me.
I am a prisoner to the weather.

My winter white window,
with the darkened outlines of a once beautiful tree
are captured and frozen by Jack Frost's armies of snow, ice and sleet.

Its winds whip past my window.
Its cold swarm past the glass shield
and the warmth of my room struggles to keep it out.

My warden is the television and Jersey Shore and Hannah Montana are the guards.
A prison where the only food left is Ramen
A punishment of shoveling snow that never stops.

I try to escape.
I try to dig my way out.
But the Winter Wind keeps me shut in.