An Icy Summit
Winter rushes in and steals the warmth out of the air
With every snowy step I make in haste, I am aware
Of the seasons of the time gone by
Of the wind, that wiggles its way through my stockings
to my thighs, once warm beneath
your touch
around your face, around your frame
Now the starkness of solitude burns cold and
reaches in,
beyond my skin,
straight to my bones,
which rattle once again.
Like fingers thawing from frozen
Burning hotter than the sun,
Cold fears the heat;
she knows,
and digs her heels in when she comes.
For Winter’s wind carries both memories of warmer days
And frostbite all at once.
