your screams muffle in beige Burberry scarf,
and the chill rides down the steep incline of my neck;
this warm body is a roller-coaster of delightful terror,
smiling as the cold stings each tooth
a dog barks,
and you scream again
as his head surfaces from the fluffy white under your feet
and we laugh
the kind of laughter that echoes
like a wind-chime on a blustery winter day,
like adolescent girls blinded by sleet,
playing Marco Polo,
swimming in snow.
it is a rare diamond of a day;
the rough cut of every flake falls slanted and shimmering
through the clear glass steaming at the corners,
warming each pane in the air rising from kindled wood
inside our home, where we now sit,
swaddled in each others' arms,
leaning in to the storm.
