Snowfall

You crumple beside me—

//

yet, you do not dare peer

at the crimson clotting our creases.

//

The silver wind. It howls around us—blistering—

a nip urging dying trees,

their dying

//

orange leaves, to settle. I watch you dip silver skin

into decaying glade, knees

pushing up leaves.

I shudder.

You grasp small, yellow petals—frigid

//

from frost's first whimper. Do you care

not that the petals

saturate

red

by your fingertips? Do you notice me

staring

from here? You watch

Narcissus blush

//

moments before you rip baby blooms by roots

from Earth's mothering grasp. Wildflowers regard

you, certain

they're next.

//

You rise, stilled

stems slowly frosting

tip

to brittle tip. I cannot follow as you step away, blossoms

//

twirling

between thumb and forefinger.

I merely observe

leaves crack

underneath you. Each footstep hemorrhages

snow

like carmine clouds. Wild

how the frost seems to bite

//

your ankles and you feel

nothing, yet it enroots

me

amidst your snowfall. Immaculate silver petals drift

midair.

//

It is a wonder how earth decays

underfoot

to surfeit you—

to gorge

your cavernous, stinging cold. Too soon,

//

you're gone. Daffodils lost. Silhouette

evanesced

by dense, gray fog. I notice

//

goosebumps

kissing my naked skin. I notice

silver

stiffening each ligament—each joint—each bone. Time

spares

patience

like the cold spares skin. Red snow finally,

//

finally

//

falls.

//

//

Red

snow

finally

falls.