haiku

your hands are soft, just
perfect for how you could touch
me. your back is strong.

i wonder where you,
that sentiment, came from.
how my finger throbs.

i point at unseen
threats; it's gone! my love, you're brave,
but jealous like crows.

dry hands cold wind warm--
i want you in my fingers.
i hate all jackets.

touch my nose, your skin;
take what i'm given with grace.
nothing touches me.

snow is on our tree.
lazy, lately i'm not there.
it's colder in me.