Broken Ice or Rolling Droplets

When I scrape ice

Off of my windshield,

The hourglass running out

Takes any ease and tosses it

Out the nearest window.

Maybe I should've gotten

Up with the sun 

To let my car awaken too,

Defrosting the layer of ice,

Making rolling droplets

Warm up to their 

Everchanging form.

But waking up early was

Not written in the plan today.

So after dressing in layers

Fit for outside,

I wielded the ice scraper,

A capable weapon.

My fingertips are kissed numb

Because I forgot gloves.

I always do.

If only I'd woken up a bit earlier

I could've spared myself 

The trouble.