Waiting to be warmed by the sun

Air as frigid as an ice box

breath puffs out in clouds of vitality, 

rays of light slowly peer over the mountains

teasing me with a promise of warmth.

But down the hill I went 

and the sun still stayed so hidden

hands, helados

cheeks as rosy as the flowers I ran by

until finally 

atop the hill once more 

the beams of light, they struck me 

warmed me 

to my core.