Winter of Homosapien

Cold wet fingers, wrapped tightly around a blanket. Falling off bare shoulders. Water dripping from dark shadowy trees. Leaves crunching beneath each foot step. Lips quivering. Eyes searching, wanting deperatly to close. Entire body, just wanting...to shut down. Fire. Aglow within. Melting off the ice clung to your hair. Sending paths of warmth up and down your arms. Filling you with liquid gold. Blanket falls to the ground. The earth opens up. Snow dissapears grass fingers its way up. Sun shining. Nothing to cover you. Completely natural. Smiling. It's summer.