And now, from the bite in the air, the prospect of snow looms, and thrills.
Frozen In - Annie Finch
Ours are the only mouths
to taste with this smothering slow
touch, and the only steps
to sink like bellsounds and cave
deep into the marble snow.
to push their arms out to the snow
and then bring the shutters back in
follow us as we fall
past their eyes where the black night lives.
never locked, never closed doors
follow us through squares of light
their windows have left on the snow.
Once again, warmth that falls,
again, though our tracks fill and slow.