To The Bone

In short, as a snow-drift is formed where there is a lull in the wind, so, one would say, where there is a lull of truth, an institution springs up. - Thoreau

outside of my mold

antagonizing the frigid cold

i trace my gloved finger in last night's snow

watching the particles of exhaled breath freeze before my very eyes

watery eyes

runny nose

another gelid blast do-si-dos

caught in this season of retreat

stark isolation

silence and loneliness of hibernation

inside and out, why am i blue

life or death

which is true

why is the sun so weak and frail

i get up in its face

utter gall to question

this bold season willing to accost with another rattling gale

how dare you

as myself i regale

why am i here like this

thrown into a recurring arctic zone

chilled once again

to the bone

Author's Note

“Take long walks in stormy weather or through deep snows in the fields and woods, if you would keep your spirits up. Deal with brute nature. Be cold and hungry and weary.” - Thoreau