Photo by DABrown
It is cold out. 15 degrees below zero. The kind of cold that the moment you step outside, motion is slower and everything seems on the verge of some great pain. Any sound is a variation of a crackle or crunch. It feels like the air might break into a thousand pieces.
*****
Emily Dickinson wrote this about a garden snake but I think it could apply to a bitter winter as well +
Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me -
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality-
But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone-
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.
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