Through the Snow

When I shudder, it’s not because it’s cold.

It’s summer now. Summer, in this muggy, swamp heat. Here, the sun drools on us, breathing hot ragged breaths over our necks. Dragging us across hell’s palm. Scalding us the moment we step outside.

No, I don’t shudder because it’s cold.

I shudder because it isn’t supposed to be cold.

And yet, here I am. Feeling that hand creep across my back. Tracing the outline of my clothes. Clawing to get into my system. Wanting to dig deeper. To tear into me.

I don’t shudder because it’s cold.

I shudder because it’s apparent:

The cold has been brought to me. Continue reading “Through the Snow”

Beneath the Snow

The thing I liked about snow was:

It was tricky.

Very, very tricky.

It cascades over the landscapes. Washes it to look clean. Gives it a sparkling, new feeling those first few days that it sits. For as long as it remains untainted by dirt, it looks pure. White.

Like the world has been given a fresh start.


If you step in the snow, you find that that’s not true.

It’s not true at all. Continue reading “Beneath the Snow”

Feeling Fall

Crunching red underfoot. Hanging orange from above. The wind whispers chills into my veins, raises goosebumps on my skin with it’s secrets. The trees are naked, bare. Revealing that even nature has its weaknesses. Even nature needs to rest.

I love the fall.

The way the wind rises, and the trees burn without ash, and the air tingles with the chill.

For a season of dying, it’s all very lively. Filled with light, and color. Brings you an aching sort of melancholy. One that ends with a hope, and a bitter cold twist.

An ache you don’t want to ignore. Continue reading “Feeling Fall”

Wolf of the Winter Wood

I had always thought I liked winter best. The way the cold pricks at your nose, keeps your senses sharp. Covers the ground with white, dusting away what once was in favor of what could be. A clean slate with the death of the past. Of what was.

Yeah, I liked winter best.

In all honesty, I think I still do.


There was one thing I forget to account for.

Winter is so, so cold. Continue reading “Wolf of the Winter Wood”

Summer Soul

Frost. Snow. Ice.

Staples of winter.

When the wind bites, and the trees shudder, winter has set in. It isn’t all bad, winter is a time of rest. As it should be. One requires rest before they can obtain renewal.


Rest is not permanent. It is the task, but not the goal.


That is the goal.

Warmth stretching your muscles, soothing your bones. A time for heat to seep in, keep your blood pumping. Keep you alive. Heat to bring warmth, to bring light.

Summer to soothe your soul.

That’s the goal.

A place of renewal.

That’s the goal. Continue reading “Summer Soul”

Cold Seas

Not a lot of people realize just how dark the sea is at night.

It’s extremely dark.

Night rolls in, oppressing the horizon line. You look out, wondering where the ocean ends and the sky begins. The stars glitz in the distance, lights that are long since gone. A small condolence for the onslaught of blinding night. A tiny indicator, for those who are in the know.

The northern stars blinks.

And I blink back.

The night is dark.

The ocean still roars.

And I’m still blind. Continue reading “Cold Seas”

Warm Winter

It rained down on us. White flurries of frosty fury. Tiny morsels that, alone, meant nothing. But together?

They covered everything.

And it was in this blanket of quiet that I went searching.

Because the cold would only keep away for so long. Continue reading “Warm Winter”