To The Winter Wind

A poem that I have recently composed. Enjoy.

West wind blasting
Fridged seasons
Through the leafless
branches of an oak.
Face numbed from
The intense onslaught
Of a late season;
Solid soil, beige patches littered
About the neighbourhood lawns;
A backdrop, the azure sky
Defining black bottoms,
Geese slowly sailing
Through heaven’s sea;
Monotone visions
Guiding my eyes,
A directing pattern formulates;
Should I follow?

The rapid vibration
Of every muscle
Is a painful reminder
Of what’s to come.
Frosty dawns and fridged
Day blasts into the
Present time; night
Brings the comfortable
Glow of a half-crescent moon;
Piles of fleece
And down heaped
Upon the slender frames,
Two bodies sit, intermingled;

Thoughtless exchange of temperature
As images entertain
Cones & rods & nerves;
With a horizontal flip
The flicker of RGB
Graffities bodies
Dancing, laughing, crying;
Radiating heat permeating,
An amalgamation
Of 98.6 degrees; 197.2
Degrees sweltering beneath
The fleece mountains & valleys.

The soft gentle grasp
Of her hand
Boiling the blood
In my arm;
I sink
Into the molded foam,
The worn brown fabric,
To entertain the dilated
Pupils with flickering embers.