Cold toes



Cold toes   

Slip them under me    I’ll warm them like they’re endangered species 

But rest from words percolating as you thaw      It’s far from spring

Sinking into the rhythms of our warming blood

chanting pheromones lost to icy blue snow

we morph like changeling far north foxes as the hairs rise on our skin

Our winter eyes dilating         wide opening into internal circuitry

we go humming and sliding off the depths of winter’s edge




13 responses

  1. If this poem were edible — I would give up Mexican food and feast upon the ecstasy of these words for the rest of my life!



    • Well Ron…I’m still laughing. Especially about the Mexican food since I eat it most nights. But this post was all about a little lightness in the doldrums of deep winter. So I’m glad it took your fancy… 🙂
      Jana xxoo


    • I know…the cold can be so…well, icy blue. I just saw a photo of a field of artemesia tridentata, or common tumbleweed, frozen in the snow and wondered if it still held any fragrance. The cold has its charms…but fragrance isn’t one of them.
      But then…it can’t go under the covers. I guess we should be glad we have legs instead of roots!


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