a texan in illinois

winter is the hollow end
of the days that empty out the year
with brittle snow and freezing wind
that calls to have a fireplace near.
a cold that leaves me bare-boned so
I’m like a corpse left for too long
with winter’s tag upon my toe,
unclaimed by warmth I don’t belong
among the ones who thrive in what
to me’s a deadly, killing frost.
instead I have a simple need that
cries for summers that I’ve lost
if only I could be at rest
content on winter’s icy breast.