Bull

The brown one knows me I'm sure
I often watch him from my window
With a gentle whistle he comes
Through the fog I see him snorting breath
Slow hooves crunching the icy grass

It's my palm I place on his back
Sharing my warmth
Frost melts in a gloved handprint
I add three more on his monstrous bulk

Through my own tears I stare at his glassy eyes
I see my self wrapped up in scarves
A beanie keeps my brain warm
I look ridiculous on those mirrored reflections

There are no flies hovering near his nose
Summer has long gone
Taking the pests and warm breeze with her
I whisper to him of spring
Watching the long lashes blink
Icicles like my toes

The seductive warmth of my home is near
Yet I cannot leave him just yet
Cupping his huge head in woolly fingers
Standing like old friends reminiscing
We dream of Natures new arrivals