Scents of the Winter

There's a crisp smell to the air

That tickles my nose

Goosebumps my bare skin,

Turns my cheeks rosey.

The first day of cold

True cold, more than a chill

So I stand in the doorway and fold

Myself into my jacket to ward against the cold thrill

I'm tired and sleepy

In the warmth of my house

Then I'm shaken from slumber as the cold comes seeping

Into my bones and across the skin under my blouse.

I've taken my camera, I've stomped into my boots

I'm snapping up pictures of snowflakes

And the frosted leaves that crunch under my soft soled shoes

I stand in the cold until I'm chilled to the point of handshakes.

Then I go inside, awash with the warmth

The cozy inside envelopes me

The sound of the fire, the smell of the hearth

I collapse on my couch, caught in a rise of happy melancholy.