When the mercury plummets to minus double digits, I think of my hometown, the place of my first 18 years—colder than any place I have ever lived. There is one particular occasion, waiting at a bus stop, that sums up my memories of harsh cold. It’s my freezing temperature benchmark.
On a grey winter day on a downtown street I wait alone for a bus, my vision narrowed to an expanse of frozen pavement. There is no shelter from the biting wind. My cheeks feel like cardboard, my ears are numb, the air is dryer than dry, my fingers clench inside mitts, feet stomp and my mind burrows deep.
in harsh winter winds
warm blood runs deep
My haibun is written in response to the dVerse Monday Hometown Haibun prompt.