January Stroll Poem by B. V. Dahlen

The still air crackles,
splinters into shards of crystal cold
that sears my lungs
and flushes my cheeks.

My footsteps crunch
with surface cracking tension
upon the frosted trail.

Gaunt branches
lace their digits overhead
and crack their bony knuckles
as the winds huff and heave.

The sky is blinding...
a blue that spans eternity.

The frigid sun stares
with glacial benediction
upon this bundled subject,
as I trod towards home.