The Winter Bone

The wind bit through my scarf today,

a sudden, icy fist.

My hand went up to pull it tighter,

felt the sharp edge,

the pale curve of my collarbone

stark against the grey

of my coat, and the grey

of the sky.

It felt like a chalk mark

left by winter,

a line drawn

to remind me

how thin the skin is,

how easily it could break.

Not a dramatic break,

just a quiet snapping,

like a twig underfoot.

I stood there,

my breath misting,

feeling the chill

seep into the bone.