In Montreal it's snowing.

And cars are splashing muddy frost on passengers
Hurrying to the big M sign
Where they'd be warm and silent
On their orange sits
The little refuge of people
Who don't wave to each other.

In Tel-Aviv it's cold.

But not the kind of cold you put a scarf for
And people are gathering
And talking elections
Wearing short sleeves
Then complaining about the weather
As cars try to avoid Allenby on their way home.

I'm lost on Canada-Israel border.
And it's snowing, and it's cold.