i associate three inch deep snow

with leaning

into rigid, warm shoulders

a childish signal

of childish tunnels

to fall into that warmth

blindfolded tumbling and tossing

to rhythms of heartbeats in tandem

prickled skin becomes reason

when the brain smooths out

a shield against February weather 

silver slivers of mornings smile

like clangling bangles guiding

iced eyes

they are greedy and soft stares

but cheap silver rusts

and leaves green stains

on lonely, barren fingers

the warmth is gone

February is cold again