college-cured and warm with
silver traced scarves wrapped
and trailing around our necks,
we dance from moth-drilled libraries
and into the sagging mouths
of old dormitories that are never alone.
nickle hued silences, clanging
with the clarion chafing of the cold,
slip from our lips like strung pearls,
held together by the muted slushing
of cocoa and mumbled agreements
about how it feels so much better to be
warmed from the inside out.

we grin through curtains of spiced steam,
setting down our cider mugs to clamber
toward window panes spidered with ice
just to watch snow wander to the ground,
cajoled by passing breezes and darting
like frightened geese. the laughter is formed
of bright halos wreathing our hair,
glowing golden in the light from a small lobby fireplace,
as we watch the boys re-enact scenes from Hamlet
with icicles for weapons and
the only blood shed is the dew of melting daggers.

winter forms frost on our breath,
we breath crystals
and wonder why-
but we are content with mysteries.