Ice Skates
A taste for winter
before it has neared.
Like a taste, remembered by smell.
Coats and scarves sitting alone, deserted in the summer light.
Fingers stretch to feel the wool of gloves.
Feet - free, running in the tall grass,
Will soon break-in ice skates,
Solid leather giving way to a practised grace.
An icy reflection of breath harnesses time
While the Black bears sleep their days away
Rivers cease their roars, frozen under winters metallic torch.
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