Our boots fell softly
Into buckets of snow
Dumped on sidewalks,
Rooftops, and forest floors.
As smoke curled from our lips,
And through the limbs of trees above us,
a smile ran across my face.
The wind bit the tip of my nose,
Reminding my why I enjoy the cold.
Our want for warmth
Leads us to clusters in patches.
Warmth found in friction between numbers
Of hands,
Smiles,
And laughter,
Blanketed on faces like snow in a pasture.
Gathered around these flames,
That warmth begins to spread.
From one to one, to one, to one.
From each to other.
To gather together and
To put our hands to our lips,
With our hands and our lips,
Clouded in warmth's sweet smoke.
To bring them to our breath and for
Our breath to be seen and to see
All of us gathered
patched and together.
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