Frost

It had been a long, cold summer,
and the air held a chill
that heightened awareness
of the alveoli branches
deep within lungs.

Closing eyes,
the cold settles in to chest,
and heaves the diaphragm
with each new inhalation.
Stress dissipating upon
the downward fall.

Hurt,
awake,
awareness.
Bursts of energy
that flow from the tips of your hair
through the nails of your toes
and fingers.

Awake without rest,
head pounds to kettle drums
symphonic in their desires
and leanings.

And I, tortured
by the long silence
that soaks through the outside world,
unaware.