Restless as winter smoke.
I am a woman's heart
as flighty
as shadow on thresholds.
Or perhaps
it is just that my gaze drifts south
towards warmer weather.
The drive of ice in your voice,
the nettle sting of those glass cut words
are swift and sharp as talons.
Till a rasping stillness
Fills the air.
The white out passes
and leaves me snow blind.
