Ode to the Cold…By: Salaam Green

When your fingers can’t type kept snug, covered by knitted thread

When your body wants to curl inside a cotton cozy blanket stopping air from catching a cold

When your undershirt clade chest curls close to a mug of hot black tea

When your lips remain chaffed from the dryness of the day

When your “lover” hasn’t sent a late night text

These are times that call for warming of one’s self

Habituating into the cave of quiet

Resting your face on the inside of man-made hats

Feeling the breezes of chilled ice snapping its breath in places gone wild

Wishing for warmer days; for first boyfriend’s Letterman jackets, for thick crochet leg warmers

When your fingers are to cold to type and your house has a makeshift fireplace

Burn the papers of spring, summer, and fall

Throwing splinters on last night’s fire

The season of  walking with your hands stuffed in your pockets has begun

Embrace the death noises of winter; crackling of leaves and tiny squirrel beaten acorns heaved at the edge of your feet.