Winter Wind Poem by Sarah Sisson

When a brisk breeze this time
of year hits my face... I whence.

The cold has a unique furry and
the pain of it surges through to

my bones. I anticipate as I see the
trees near me move, and know that

seconds from my visual there will
be that gust. I can run to my destination

to avoid this sharpness. That is all I
can do. As this shrill whistle pierces

my ear, I feel the shiver enter my
body. Once I am inside... I still feel it...

...the blood in my cheeks. The frosty
remainder in my skin and then the

warmth envelops me. I am sheltered
from the grimness of winter.

Copyright 12-31-2008©® Sarah Sisson