Musings, Poetry

Winter

by stickysituation

The cold and I
don’t mix well together –
or so I thought.
It was a crisp winter morning
and I walked alongside old train tracks
the gravel crunching under my feet as I walked
wind rushing against my skin in forceful waves
my breath seemingly coming to a halt mid air.
There is a stillness only the cold can produce
serenity I have not felt since
for when I stopped walking the wind ceased
to hinder me from moving
forward
and instead of hitting me with icy gusts
it gently brushed against my front
as if to stroke me.
Maybe there’s a little cold in
each of us
yearning to be nurtured
but maybe that cold is the only protection we have
these days
in this freezing world.
As they say:
fight fire with fire
or in this case
ice with ice.

18 thoughts on “Winter”

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