The Body Remembers Cold
The Skin Learns Winter
“Frost is the hand that teaches the body its boundaries.”
The chill reaches me before the snow.
It settles into the marrow of my hands,
sinks through my boots
until even the stones seem to pulse with frost.
✦
Each breath rises visible,
a fragile ghost that breaks in the air.
My lips taste of iron,
my tongue of ash,
the cold pressing its story against my teeth.
✦
The pines exhale resin, sharp and green,
the scent stinging as though the forest bleeds.
I lean into their shadows,
their bark rough against my palms,
their silence steadier than mine.
✦
In this body of earth and air,
I feel the turning.
Autumn loosens its cloak,
and winter fastens it around my shoulders.
About the Creator
Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales
I love to write. I have a deep love for words and language; a budding philologist (a late bloomer according to my father). I have been fascinated with the construction of sentences and how meaning is derived from the order of words.
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