Winter

[lillypaddle]

It’s going to be a long
winter.
Already I feel the ice forming
like silver glass against my
fingers.

I think of the heat of you,
flesh hearth,
blazing fire, how I yearn
to warm
my icy hands against your
backbone.

The trees lie down with the wind.
Their leaves
falling, teardrops colored by
seasons.
already they feel the ice
forming.

The night grows younger, longer,
colder.
The shiver at the base of
my spine
creeps upward toward my mouth,

come home.