The Freeze

Brisk and bracing is the cold, as you gauge its mood in the morning. Your skin responds to its marital caress. Will it bite off chunks of flesh, nipping at your ears and nose? Its frosty fangs still the seeping stumps.

Or perhaps it will encircle you in its beefy arms, frosting your entire body evenly. It often settles deep in your loins, causing uncontrollable little tremors to pulse through your limbs and lungs, and you must will your torso back to equilibrium.

I know the days it invades your head, taking residence in the brain's darkest chasms, when only mental bonfire melts the freeze.