The Kingdom of Cold Hands
Wintertime: warm breath in frigid air
Dog walking weather
No objections here. The animal strains
On his leash, beneath trees
Bare and stooped, some crooked and crippled
Trapped in a state of advanced decay
Green to grey as the year marches onward
I inhale. There are ice crystals in the air.
Tendrils of smoke from every chimney
Becoming a part of the season’s steady breath
Using our kindness for kindling
We make a fire and gather round
Some speculate that the shrieking wind
Is the disapproving voice of the almighty
For winter is charming and disarming
And throughout this season wise witches
Escape from the pages of fairy tales
And wander freely through the forest
So Sick of Drowning 