ode to fedex

More of a limerick than a poem, written with frozen hands and just for fun.

Hanging out the window,
In the middle of winter,
Waiting again for FedEx,

My coffee grows cold,
Though only 10 minutes old,
Because I need to sign at the X,

I’ve requested they call,
Every month now since fall,
But they’d rather just leave a slip,

So on the cold sill,
I lean out here still,
A lookout for the ship.