Walking In The Air

Grey skies look vast
and heavy with catastrophe
I cower imagining it will fall
to compress me beneath its weighty misfortune

It’s winter, the air hangs harsh
with frosty shards slicing
lungs with cruel cuts.
Breaths bite, cheeks sting, freeze dried
lips twist into a grimace.

Home looms in front of rheumy eyes
the door opens like arms to welcome me
back to where warmth and love lies.