Something about wintertime . . .

Everyone has heard the "every snowflake is unique" bullshit
I get it
Ice crystalizes
Randomly
I cannot stand to give meaning to the universe constrained by six directions
Constrained by symmetry
I held a snowflake on my glove and took it to an old flame
Said, "Look! Watch the perfection of the sky and what it has wrought!"
But it melted before she turned around

This winter I welcomed the coming of the cold
Excited for the clarity it might bring
The clear air, I decided, would show me each imperfection in perfect focus
I spent days focusing on the smudges I found on my glasses
The pimples on my legs
The hickeys that should have faded from her still tattooed onto my neck
Good thing winter is scarf season.

Excited by the days too cold for snow
Where the air would burn my lungs
The act of breathing made harsh by the simple fact of survival
Each sharp breath dragging down my throat
I relish the pain

In parts of Ontario
(She told me)
They measure the temperature not by degrees but in
Seconds it will take your naked skin
(I still blush when she says naked)
To catch frostbite:
The seconds between the moment that the cold wraps around your delicate fingers
Kisses your pink nose
And takes them in first burning and then
Numbness
She and I know a thing or two about numbness

I went for a run last week
Because I wanted to run away from this feeling and I tried to run so fast I left behind the cold and
Although I know there's more oxygen in the colder, denser air
It was hard to breathe
I didn't notice the cold until I got back inside
And the warm air flowed back into my numb legs
So that they itched in warming up
Turning red and irritated
Too late protesting their brutal treatment in the weak winter daylight.
The irony of this does not escape me.


The winter sunlight and I agree about the general shape of things:
We shine together on the snow
Bringing light into the world in a prismatic rainbow of
Color. We shine the sky a color of blue so bright it looks like it's glowing with its own light
We're so bright you can hardly stand to look.
But step out in the cold and we'll take breath away
Without warming the lonely earth
We bring to heat, just blinding light.
Perhaps it's better that way.