Loners

We're two snow-blind, left-behind
sparrows in the still of winter
when even the snowflakes shiver,

but your body's a furnace and your
breath is steam as I smolder
against you while the evergreens
reach toward us and the snowy
campfire ashes look on in envy.

And the trees will freeze alone
and all I can say about my
loyal furnace is "we just
got lucky"