A light dusting atop the trees

Stark white and earthy green against pale smoke

The frost setting in, penetrating straight to the core

I can feel it in my bones

They're becoming soft, brittle

I can feel it in my skin

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The way it pulls taut and tears

My blood runs cold

And then doesn't run at all

Does pain really hurt

If you're not conscious to feel it?

What harm is a cut

If the blood won't flow to spill out of it?

There are worse things, perhaps

In this world

Than a first freeze