On Winter Air And You

The door opens and brings a frigid scent of crusty leaves
with the northern wind.
It has traveled far. Across the broken limbs
of robust oak trees. Brushing on top
of ice-capped streams.
And collecting the subtle recollection of another season.

The wind.
Blows here and there.
Its mind is hidden. Like yours. But, I am surrounded with wind.

Winter is brutal. I will not waste it.

You are mine in all seasons.