The arctic air of a January night, with a wind
chill dropping the temperature too far
below zero,
the kind that burns as you breathe,
in and out, tingling
your nose in its icy bitterness,
numbing the very tip stuck
out from the layers of wool wrapped
around your face:
it reminds me of the warmth of a
friend who calls
but to say hello, to check on me,
and to wish me well.
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