I wear this winter like a cloak
Unlike past winters that have worn me.
Each visible puff of breath
Proof of existing (and
In spite of northerly wind
And bleakened landscape.
As I breathe life out into this bitter world
It breathes it back into me.
For on these cold winter nights
We are all chimneyed-factories,
Burning heat within and
Emitting puffs of steam
Against the long night sky.