Snowed In
rating: +6+x

You’ve made a hole with your arms in the frost of the earth.
Gentle breaths
In a snowy blanket.
The little green light on the rescue beacon
(with a full battery)
blinks in a two-second interval.
You measured it by pulse
slow as a dreamer.
You cast off your skis
(they can be replaced)
(there’s a mug of hot chocolate
waiting for you.)
The cold nipping at your unburied leg
reminds you of the fireplace.
How long has it been?
Four minutes? Five?
(Ten more and you’d start to worry.)
But the snow-muffled shouting and shuffling above
is a good sign, to say the least.
It doesn’t hurt right now
(though it might bruise later.)
Lost in your reverie,
you barely notice when a hand grabs your boot.
Time to go.

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