The Cold

Cold, isolation, the world beyond the glass moves on.

The stark red bird perches on the bare branch.

Inside, cold lives in the walls and floors

seeping into my toes, fingers, nose…

sometimes, into the depths of my soul.

I feel an unexplainable desperation.

Warmth is needed immediately.

Nothing else can be done except to seek heat.

The sun is fleeting, only burning through the clouds

for a brief moment at a time.

Breathing fills my nostrils with frigid air.

Escaping the cold is a difficult task.

By April, reserves from the summer and fall are depleted.

My soul yearns for the warmth of the sun.

But, I must make due with attainable things:

a space heater toasting my toes,

a cup of hot tea, bringing warmth to my core that radiates outward,

a hot bath gradually filled until I am finally flooded completely in warmth.

Ah, what a blessed, blessed relief when the warmth comes,

however short lived…