Waiting for the N at 8am

"What day is today," I ask myself?

"Just another day," the wind answers back.

Sunny but cold

Snowing by dry.

I don't mind it either way though.

I didn't really know

that I liked this time of year so much.

That I enjoyed the cold.

I wonder if that's new?

Like this fresh blanket of snow.

I don't know why

But the feeling of being cold

Feeling the chill underneath my skin

Burrowing down deep into my bones

Makes me feel alert and reminds me I'm alive.

This discomfort reminds me

to breathe and to see my breath.

To watch it dance gently with the flakes of snow

as it settles on rails,

waiting,

for the wind to simply ask them again

for their hand, and to dance once more

their gentle friendly reminders.