and as the weather turns sour each year
i find my body curling in on itself
like yesterday’s paper burning up
to fuel that sweet, sweet fire.
and i find my toes sticking through old knitted socks,
and i find myself kissing new faces.
oh, the sweet with the bitter,
the moths and the red wine of it all.
how i’ve come to embrace this deep, purple weather,
and all that it brings within.