we are walking home in the snow.

 

somewhere nearby, logs burn.

the piney scent cuts through the night’s biting cold.

 

once inside, sweaters and hands will restore us.

i’ll make us tea:

a peppermint decongestant.

 

outside, your hand takes mine.

we are almost there.

your sturdy footsteps march along my small imprints in the snow—

a map of where we’ve been, of the road we’ve traveled.

 

side by side, we walk.

 

inside, incense waits for flame.

inside, music waits for dancers.

inside, we will curl together like sleeping cats, sleepy and warm with dreams.

 

through the winter air, we walk.