Winter Coat

i nurture the cold like a snake-mother. reptilian skin with no fur to warm you. boreal air leaks in through the pin pricks in my body. i can only shift to rearrange them so the wind doesn’t hit your goose-flesh neck. truthfully, i have somewhere to be. but i can spare a few minutes to sit here. and willingly i’ll freeze so that i don’t have to friction a fire in these woods. snow powdered hares would make for better food, but i have no desire to catch them. i’ll paint you a picture of them instead. January 1, 2020 for Emile Pinet's Winter contest.