i love to count
the wintry things
two lips

the tundra glides
                past the slates
as, perched on wires, the crows wait
for their white coats
              to build

two covered boots
              walk the ice on the road
as the children and their bikes
stick out

distinctly red, half hidden in snow
the wet ice of the street
            two black tires

a trail of feet
i count five flakes
one cold face
one pink nose and two flushed cheeks
eight car hoods

mounds of snow piled up on each

snow,
            the snow falls
feathering down to the ground
            through the cold
settling down on woolly clothes

my tongue stuck out to catch the snow
landing, thawing, melted down

condensed. five, six, seven, eight,
thousands, millions
          an infinite
blizzard
        of snowy
children
dancing, muddy footprints

orange gloves on numbing digits

hot chocolate inside
snugly

both palms
around
        like a lighter's
flame
in a cold home

and the birds' wings clap
as they fly
from the branches
in the frozen
      barren
fields