Breath stands off your face
like your personal cloud;
air invades your mouth
like hardrock riccochet,
scrapes skin
like a molten rasp;
your winter gear is rigid
as the ice underfoot,
while snow squeals
under the boot.
Puffy clouds lie
close overhead
and breathing is easy
and everything loosens
including your collar:
snow packs and crunches.
Sun gleams
air steams
snow slurps.
About riverwriter
Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else?
wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/
Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
