The body drinks the cold
like cider on a summer’s day
with tingling teenage delight
at forbidden late-night antics.
Giggling on frosted air
we are addicts,
high on frozen echoes,
legs and arms bare,
spinning spells,
as we skim slices of ice
across the arctic loch
over and over
and the raw tinkling rings
through water, air,
rock and bone
bouncing off the vast blue sky
and spiny winter trees.
leaving kisses
in the huge silence.
2/2/18
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