Frigid Air

This morning, my feet are cold,
and my arms and legs asleep;
they feel so numb and lifeless,
but still some life they keep.

My hands and fingertips, like icicles,
pretend to know the words,
that I want to say so loud
but never will be heard.

The frigid air was brutal
as the sun shone on that day; and
gave clouds and socks and hat and gloves,
some warmth, in some odd way.

-LJ

23 November 2016