It brushes against me,
Against my cheeks
and freezing fingers.
So graciously grey in its icy embrace,
Stabbing me, slicing through its edgy hushed up haze.
I miss its presence as I drift to cozy sleep.
No longer an alien
is its thorny touch;
Whistling in my ear it stifles my strolls,
Arched inside my head, like an avalanche it falls.
I could get used to its isolated love.
It makes me real,
this winter's skin.
seeping through settled numbness it spills, quivers
and leaves me, threatened, amidst a battle of shivers.
I've altered into a floating trace of its solid truth.
(November '13)
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