In a tiny nutty shell

Your cold wet body dances down onto my nose. Feather light one by one, but when amassed, your immense weight traps me in the vices of a straight jacket. Ten flakes fall from a sky laced with disaster. I pull on a jacket too big for my body and too warm for the weather. But I dance; I twirl; under the spotlight of the dingy street light.  Silent as seven am on Sunday, I am alone. But you keep me company and we move to the indistinguishable notes wafting through the thick night air. We have rhythm and a stage.