I can see my breath

I can see my air

hovering in front of me

grasped by the frozen breath of winter

--

My keys jingle

in my hand as though

I'm Santa come early, sans reindeer

--

Against the window

tiny fingers of frost reach

toward the outer rims, hopeful

--

I trace them, soft

padded print against

the promise of snow and blankets

--

Fingertip meets lips

cool questions and answers

of possibilities on an empty day

--

A blank sheet of

paper with a sharpened

pencil and plenty to say, create

--

Speak into existence

frost clinging to my tongue

and crisp words of the future breathe

--

I can see my breath

hovering in front of me

grasped by the frozen air of winter