Winter Longing

Shelter me
in fake leaves and fire,
the smell of cider
or cinnamon.
I want the sky
to mellow gray,
to dream of feasts
and coats
and fleece.

Pull down
the growing sun
to leave the nights
open to lights
and tinkle
and indoor warmth.
I’ve served my time
to heat
and watermelon.

Hats, glove,
long sleeve shirts,
clothe me close
to religion
so I can hide
and watch outside
at snow
or falling heaven.

Come fire,
season of fire,
for so much
has frozen.
But only then
do I open
and unstiffen
for the warmth.

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