Icicles falling to the ground in shatters, like they’re committing suicide.
She darts through the limbs, brittle and thin
Poking her and stabbing her,
Threatening her life.
Her breath sweeps across her face in a white fog,
Gluing to her skin.

In contradiction of the bitter weather, Christmas arrives.
It brings warmth in little shiny packages.
Bows and Ribbons
Tinsel and Ornaments.

Snow melts, as do the chills, and your breath becomes
Invisible.
She ditches the scarves but keeps her gloves- it’s still chilly.

Icicles form on tree branches and houses; soon to be suicidal.
Red skin and white snow brings back this icy-isolation

Of December.