Experiment

I know it’s cold.
Earth’s bones are stiff.

I know because below my feet
and the deep dead leaves,
I feel a crunch.

Not a sodden, padded step,
but a crispness only felt
today
maybe tomorrow.

The dirt pushes up from under
each step
and shrugs
off the needles and grass binding.

She resists the advances
of footsteps and Winter,
in her crusty shell of ice
crystals.

I know it’s cold.
My bones are stiff.

I know because below my flushed
shell and the mist
beyond my face
is a satisfaction.

I know I can enter the cold simply
to question whether
or not
it is.

-A.J.M.

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