Poetry: In Freezing Hues

The cold that now afflicts us
is not the comfortable cold
promised before the holidays
are out.

It is now the coldness of winter
and everything is a light blue sterile.

The whiteness of our surroundings
blowing across fields of deceased
plants and aching trees,
and the Earth seems to groan.

It is a tightening of the ground
and a tightening of the skin.

The people here do not run through
the snow. They only walk, and often
they are just standing and
holding their jackets closed.

It is not like it is cold forever,
but watching the snow drift and freeze
feels like it.