In winter I like to wear layers:

A layer of joy, close to the skin, and warming the heart;

A layer of melancholy – which, contrary to what you might think, carries a welcome snugness, and memory, and is companion to compassion;

A magical layer of whimsy (though I’m not sure where I got it);

A layer of fire. Not taking that one off anytime soon – the world ignited it, but now the world’s not taking it off me;

I have a layer of hope I wear sometimes – though it can be thin, when necessary, or left in the drawer;

I have a layer of kindness, that was given me long, long ago;

I have layers of worry, but I wear them loose, these days;

And sometimes I take all the layers off, and dance naked in the rain. But it’s nice to dress up for the brisk air, and dress down to meet myself again.