This poem makes me remember what it was like to stand in the cold on a winter morning waiting for the school bus that may even be late. The second stanza of the poem, Hangover moon is like the moon from the other noght dissappearing and been pushed away in the morning by the snow clouds and hands freezing because a part of your glove is torn.
I like the third stanza that gives a great discription of how sky looks on that morning giving someone who has never experienced thw cold of a wintry morning to get an idea of how it the sky looks like.
In reading the poem, a feeling of cold, helplessness for the boy, and running inside a house washes over me.
The poem I believe its at its best in the second stanza, when the writer talks about the sky like a child that does not listen (vagabond).
The sky is maverick. Clouds
are rolling black, tossing vagabond
Waiting for a bus. Beside the road