I lift up one small shaking finger

Cold and chapped and white

I feel my warm breath against it

And it led me to the night

Shaking as the zipper rises

A reassuring zuzz

Coldness hits my ears and curls

My hair into a fuzz

All that lies between me now

And where I want to be

Is silence, seatbelt, misted,

And there I will be free.

Shaking knuckles grip ever tighter,

Curving round the bends,

Only me and moisture now

And there my angst might end.

Faster softer ragged rises

My lungs and chest recall

The work of making progress

When you feel it in your all

But one dip,

One toe

Into the water

One speckle on one grain

One icy chill snaking through ones vessels

And I am home again. 

- Bella Bakere

 ©2020 Theodora Young with Wix.com in collaboration with what3words.com, France.