The moon a bright, fat cauliflower in the early morning sky Blistering cold seeping into the skin on the thighs Burning in your fingers A profound quietness blankets 7 am Much like the soft snow blanketing the jagged black ice Sky and ground synonymous hues of bluish white Sleepy bark naked trees jut up from the ground Whispering hushed things Of frigid beauty frozen into the retina from a snowy night