Winter

My bones ache in the winter
And when the wind whips my ears,
Shoulders, hands, calves, ankles, toes,
I try to hide in my coat.

I am a heat-seeker those times.
If a flame is licking near,
I will find it, its breath warms,
Then roasts me until I turn.

In winter, the dark hangs low,
Leaving small spaces of light
Where I plant myself, yearning
For more as it fades away.

There's little of winter that
Cheers me. I count it down. It's
Prison time without parole.