It is winter now.
You can tell because the chimneys proclaim that a new season has begun.
The scent of burning pinion rests in the air, even though snow hasn’t fallen.
The chill in the mornings bites uncovered ears and blushes my cheeks as I collect the firewood.
It is winter now.
You can tell because the dog runs faster through the wood.
He sniffs longer to find the scent of a deer.
Each time I touch the doorknob, my leggings create static that shocks me awake.
It is winter now.
You can tell because the blankets emerge from their chests.
They stretch out and caress the leathered worn chair.
They’ll spend months unfolded and lounging about on the sofa by the fire.
It is winter now.
You can tell because I am alone.
