Winter is coming unstitched,
Frayed threads of cold loosening a tentative hold.
The fabric of winter sifts into the earth, flows into the cavities,
The pulse of the city quickens beneath your feet.
A sound of sweet release that catches in your throat, and floods your heart.
Time skips a quick beat, moving forward, a gentle breath on the cheek.
Winter is coming unstitched.
All images © Karen McRae