It's cold, **** cold,
I blame the north wind.
It pushes the ice on Huron
Against the shore
Making great dunes of frozen water,
Cooling the wind passing over.
It penetrates my outer layer,
Warming itself between inner clothes.
Dampening my cheek;
Cold whispers in my ears;
A cruel embrace,
Girdling me,
Seductive as the dead.
It wraps my house
Like it knows my address;
An unannounced visitor,
Reluctant to leave.
It's mid-January;
Glad the sun's casting
Longer shadows,
Before the wind retires.