They fall from the trees in Florida

as the warmth leaves

their bodies, as temperatures head

towards freezing point, not dead

but inactive, I feel the same,

fingers numb, comfortably so

as my own head

once full of brightly coloured things

withstands the thaw of a frosted tongue,

and the chill of stimulation

is under ice, kept cold,

frigid and out of touch,

my blood is of iguana

my thoughts damaged

as I fall from the tree in Florida.

 

Ian D. Hall 2017