poem: the cold

The cold 

can sometimes be 

a good sensation. 

Not exactly a pleasurable one

but one you're glad to feel. 

I don't mean frosty cold 

or the cold brought on by high winds 

or that unwanted cold 

that barrels itself into a summer's day. 

I mean the cold that cuts straight

like a blade to the skin

that summons images 

of light blue 

and clear white 

and only comes when the sky is a plain colour. 

And sometimes 

it's not nice at all.