a poem a day for a year #16

by Amy Turn Sharp


firewood bundles

mountain man back

you have grown your whiskers 

these past days

snow cold 

like a hand on my lower back

slipping beneath my sweater

I've got the winter blues 

and you with the sweet broad northern accent

you call me love

rabbit

sweetie

and my coat falls from my body

like a honey puddle

and we sit by the fire

and we watch the red heat

tell us stories