wincing cold

I wake up to howling gusts of wind.
The softened snow has turned to hard, slick ice. And all day it just gets colder, from 7 degrees when I get up to 12 below zero at 8pm… and maybe as low as 20 below zero tomorrow morning. But no new snow – not even a flurry.

I wince when I get the paper,
when I take out the garbage,
when I get the mail.
I’m out and in fast enough that I hardly feel the cold,
but after I come inside
my clothes press their cold into my skin from the outside in
and I shiver
(at their petty cruelty).

J. makes homemade tortillas for lunch, and I’m warm again.

I hear the first movement of Schumann’s Kinderszenen (“Of Foreign Lands and Peoples”) on the radio, and I smile.