Spinning

Arm in arm

we stride beneath the bright grey roof of an early winter sky

(cold enough to turn our cheeks red but

not cold enough to complain about).

Close together,

our long wool coats swirl, brushing together at the knee.

We move swiftly

until suddenly you stop and drag me around

once, twice,

two spinning stars linked by elbows.

We laugh, open-mouthed, at the thrill

of brisk air and sudden movement.

Jan 2005