I like the cold so brisk and fresh
it cuts through clothes
and crimps nose hair. I like
the winter mornings, dark at first
giving way to crystallized trees and pastel
sunrises. I like waking up
under six heaped blankets so deep I crawl out
of the mattress depression. The creep
of traffic and grumble of weather
is the Minnesota song. I feel the pinpricks
on my spine, the attention of every hair follicle
to tasteless air.
Holding on to morning in winter
with mittened hands, I like to greet
the day that steals
Mary Wlodarski is a native of Minnesota, and a lover of nature and all things animal. She lives in Oak Grove with her husband, three horses, and miniature daschund. She is working on her MFA at Hamline University in Saint Paul while teaching high school English in Andover.