Suited Up

It is snowy, windy,

-10 degrees.

Between my naked warmth

and the frigid day that would

steal my heat in a moment,

there are many careful layers --

wool, flannel, fleece, feathers.

I pause in my daily task

(feeding wild birds who

depend on me for seed) 

to lift my face. On the

scant inch of bare skin

between scarf and hat,

I feel the brush of crystal

flakes. I sneak my nose

out of its cocoon for

a single piercing breath,

quickly retreating from

Jack Frost’s nipping.

Oh, children of the Sudan,

or Florida’s humid shores!

You were not born to know

the deep delight of standing

so bundled against the world,

tasting it

in careful

icy sips.