Early November morning rays
of cool light turn warm as they
pass through the gossamer
veils upon the window.
I could almost imagine
the decay of autumn and
the dormancy of winter
are over but the frosty air
tells me a different story.
I know this to be factual because
I am made of water. Instead
of melting I am giving off winter's breath.
Instead of warming I chill all around
me with the reverie of my heart.
I'm impervious to frost bite.
I glow like a child's rosy
cheeks but within me are
icebergs for sinking ships.
November 24
