8 October 2012
I look forward to
The white-gold of
The first snow
Of winter, a shock,
Raw, leaving scars
On the land with
It's freeze-thaw-repeat,
Gloves on fingers,
Boots on feet,
Deep cold seeping in
Despite five layers,
A numbness in my bones,
Frozen lakes and
The dangerous
Dangle of icicles,
Claws of winter,
Threatening
To scratch and impale
With aching cold,
And the bitterness of
The night, lengthening,
Until sunlight is
Barely there
And lacking warmth,
Daylight suffers
From a fleeting brevity,
But still,
I long for the
Draining kiss
Of winter's cold;
Of pumpkin spice
And cinnamon,
Open fires,
Twinkling lights
Of decorations,
Frosty car-scrape
Mornings when
My breath escapes
In billows and plumes,
And all the world
Is alight with
The sparkle and gleam
Of winter's cold.
Winter's Cold • Opuss № I