Warmth

Sometimes a piece of sun

burned like a coin between my hands

---Pablo Neruda

The icy wind that filtered in

would no longer chill my bones.

The sun, so massive, yet so small

could shift the balance of everything.

The warmth that radiated from my hands--

enough to make my day.

I took a chisel and went up to the sun
breaking off pieces

to sprinkle over the earth.

Everyone can have their own sliver

to keep with them

so they are never cold.