Wishful Summer Thinking

Freezing-bitter brittle skin
Gale force twenty minus ten
Blue cold digits, frosted flesh
A landscape snow filled, chilled and fresh

Ice hewn huts in which we lay
Draughty, shabby, dark and grey

Vice grip, Jacks sharp needle hands
Heat drawn from us, stiff as planks

Flakes so cooling rest on face
Buried deep in arctic space

Kelvin zero atoms locked
So frigid even physic’s stopped

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