Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky...

[e_juliana]

The cold is brutal. I am summer-soft, invalid-weak, unprepared for this bone-searing chill. Its icy fingers creep into our home, pervading every nook and cranny, making action impossible and sleep a refuge. The knife-sharp wind howls up the hill, slicing away protective layers and lacerating the delicate skin. Warmth is an mirage, shimmering and beckoning in this frosty desert.

Utterly frozen is this youthful lady,
Even as the snow that lies within the shade

I admit to being weaker than most, to being more affected by it this year, to not enjoying the struggle as I once did. My accident plays a large part in that, as does our new home, which has location and age working against it.

However, the projected lows will be staying in the negative digits for the next 5 days at the least, and will be accompanied by strong winds. This will not be pleasant.

This is the Hour of Lead—
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow—
First—Chill—then Stupor—then the letting go—


(edit: a three-fer! Shakespeare, Dante, and Emily Dickinson. All hail Bartlett's, the one-stop shop for poor memories that recall a whiff of a line of a poem.)