Ice like bullets slice thru
A cone of street light
and beads of snow fall
making pock marks on the white
ground below
Popsicle cold
and
Stiff as if I'd been spray starched
I huddle and walk in my down coat
looking thick and bulky
like shrubbery wrapped and tied
for winter
The wind blew in and settled on my face
Making my nose neon red
My breath catches in my chest
A wordless primal wail
Makes it to my frosted lips
The winds carry my cry
I'm ready for spring!

~ Ruth Ann Berry, 3/8/07