Nobody does winter better than you.
Mist curls out from your mouth
as the sun slants with it's false promise.
Long shadows lie like bruises
on the hard unforgiving ground.
You are both the ice which cracks
& the crevasse where you fall.
I can only reach out
to save your slivers,
for you will forever find
the moribund in your breathing.
I now fear even the first fall of snow,
for nothing white is now sacred.
And the days -
when winter was the time
to seek warmth in
chilling wilderness -
now lie buried in a shallow grave,
as we wait for the next blizzard
which would chill us, but never ever kill.
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