Our Space Between The Tropic Of Cancer And Capricorn Poem by Ivona Sophia

freezing ground bristles with yellow needles,
looking like a huge, scared hedgehog. a narrow
path slowly floods in fog. we are wading in leaves,
parks, constellations. saturation of light is changing
with every step. deeper in color as steepening tea.
lemon tea suddenly burning my mind. sweet.
with a dropp of honey under layers of clothes.
in spite of cold weather trees are stripping off
leaves. this hour is all about us. wrapped in scarves,
we’re talking in sight language, one glance at a time,
saving our warm breath in lungs for sights.
for whispers.