You see me in the winter

You see me in the winter

when the trees have lost their leaves,

when the gaps are wide and gaping,

bitter’s visage twisted mean.

You see me in the winter

when nobody else comes by,

when the drifts of icy sorrow

reflect the slippery slate of sky.

When I’m six degrees below,

this lonely separation,

and my body sinks still further

as it’s buried dark in snow.

When the cold plunges deep

but you try to understand,

as it touches aching bones

you proffer a kindred hand.

When breath fogs white,

and the edges fuzz and splinter,

at least the stranger in the mirror knows,

you see me in the winter.

Words and photograph by Jess Sturman-Coombs