Cold

 /   /  By Emma Birches
Stone Soup Magazine
January/February 2015

By Claire Yoon MacDonald

The cold air
Hits me instantly, spontaneously,
As I step out the door.
My breath
Puffs on the cold air in little white clouds,
Forming a quick wisp of silky fog.
Snow
Soft, white, like winter’s blanket,
Spirals from the sky, landing on
The creases of my shirt,
Landing on my eyelashes,
Creating a cold white barrier between my eyes
And the world ahead. Ice
It covers the water on the street
In a cold, hard shell of whiteness
Causing my boots
To slip and slide over it.
The bleak, black skeletons of trees
Sway solemnly in the harsh, snowy wind.
Cold.

Cold Claire Yoon MacDonald

Claire Yoon MacDonald, 10
Bexley, Ohio

About the Author

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