A Woman from the Snow

I am a woman from the snow

And my hands are always cold

They jitter and they shiver

In winter’s unsteady hold

How I long so for their stillness

The complacency of warmth

Yet if I lay hands upon it

Heat flees from within the hearth

I am a woman from the snow

And my hands are always cold

Fingertips catch light and shimmer

With the kiss of winter’s gold

Rip-tear winds steal voices that I knew

And beckon me outdoors

The empty ice would welcome me

And pry away my core

I am a woman from the snow

And my hands are always cold

I do not keep them close to me

Winter would take my soul

They can’t be held near fire bright

Nor raised to yellow sun

For my hands would quench their burning

And the winter would have won.