and we become so soft
summer cool and winter
warm we whose ancestors
swathed continents on foot
by horse or wagon each
exquisite day in fine detail
crocus nosing a ribbon of snow
snapping mornings frost
on quilts tang of woodsmoke
swirling leaves melting summer
days in wool and collars and
sleeves and stays you hold
the door toss keys we peel
off layers as we go we shed
our strength like sweat and salt
and subway grime swept
seaward by the shower's cool
pulse an end-of-day oasis
our stern ghosts close the door
on our laughter as they leave
(c) 2013, by Hannah Six
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