The Cold Slips In

The cold slips in
Through the thin sheets of glass which separate
What lies within
From the outer world
And over time
A chill is felt
As hairs stand on end
A warning
A call for warmth and a reminder
That harsh conditions exist
Just inches from the space we inhabit
Improbable and yet
Here we remain
Huddled in structures constructed
From the dried remains of much taller organisms
Sealed with the earth
And made to shine
With any color under the sun

4 thoughts on “The Cold Slips In

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