Let me nuzzle my cheek, just barely, against the uppermost part of your pectoral muscle while you tell me stories of before I knew you.
Let us, again, rub limbs together like how crickets sing, to keep warm.
Because I can see the pending winds of winter on the watery horizon of the Sound admidst the
clouds of steely grey.
Smoke from some celestial dragon finishing an exhalation
from his degree of inclination.
Pull close in arms and tether me against you.
Listen to the furnace rattle and to the homestead’s ribbing creaks.
Because, when the partially frozen rain begins descending,
we wilt not see but what is immediately in front of us,
So, let it be one to the other, through this season of alaying bare.