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
Inhospitable
Unfriendly
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
The Cold Slips In
Published
Objects, and the Distance Between Them 
That good it made me shiver. 🙂
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Perfect for this frigid day in New York
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I often think of that thin line between shelter and the harshness of the elements. Lovely poem. 💕.
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It is always such a thin line… but we do not always notice it when we are buffered with modern comforts. There is value in both the comfort and the awareness thereof.
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