I like the concept of this poem, and can def relate to the idea of winter being a lot nicer from afar until you think about it. c:
The fuzzy embroidery of heaven on my windows
This is such a lovely and unique image, and I like that it also suggests that maybe this "fuzzy embroidery" is too good to be true (since snow, after all, is made of water, not thread).
It's purgatory on Earth: not quite heaven, but at least not hell.
The climatic pests of sweat and back-breaking labor, The swarm of heat that pulses against the brain screaming,
Pretty on-the-nose comparisons between purgatory, heaven and hell there, but I guess it's neat to see purgatory at all mentioned in a poem. Mostly I've seen heaven and hell getting most of the attention. I felt a bit stuck reading this part, because "climatic pests" made me re-read the line a few times, wondering if it meant 'climax' as in 'the climax of a story' or 'climate'.
"Seriously!"
The sudden dialogue bit/ speech also caught me off-guard. It's kind of unusual to see that in a poem, and it also doesn't appear elsewhere in the text.
Noses red as strawberries,
Necks bundled in layer after layer after layer of scarves,
I like how physical and down-to-earth these images are, showing the physical discomfort of winter.
Nice work!
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