November 3rd | "Blanket"

Winter is nice,
but she can be nasty when she wants to be:
the corners of her mouth sharp as ice,
dreamy look of contempt cuts close in her eyes,
and the kiss she brings to life
is a thief bearing a knife.

She taunts us with ribbons
and soft-petaled clippings
like feathery dust on white air
glittering in the night as we stare.

Winter is nice,
but her sisters are nicer, and she is seldom as sweet as they;
their smiles are broad and warm
with eyes the color of sea and storm,
and they wrap you in a blanket of gold
while we wait for the return of mulch and mold.

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