Cold Running

I knew at once the wind was north by west;
it slid between the houses and the trees,
obliquely intercepted me then pressed
my fingers through my gloves and tried to freeze
my hands.  I flexed my fingers as I ran
to move my blood into constricted veins.
The chill attacked as soon as I began
to move, like water, challenging its reign.
The stream beside the road was choked with ice
and yet it flowed, regardless of the threat
the wind-chill made.  Defiance would suffice
for me as well.  I started to forget
how cold the air, how liquid I’d become;
and ran toward the welcome of the sun.

This sonnet is available in my book, “26.2 Sonnets for Runners.”

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