It’s so damn cold, I swear I might cry,

The wind howls sharp from a slate-gray sky.

My breath hangs thick, a frozen mist,

My body stiff, my limbs all twist.

But worse than toes that crack like glass,

Or shivers rattling through my ass,

Is the cruelest fate this cold invites —

My poor, poor nuts have caught frostbite.

I trudged through snow, my jeans too thin,

Regretting now where I’ve been.

The ice crept in, a creeping thief,

Stealing warmth, igniting grief.

At first a tingle, a teasing sting,

A frosty flirt, a winter fling.

But soon that kiss turned sharp and mean,

Like icicles lodged in between.

I cupped myself, a futile try,

As snowflakes swirled and mocked my cry.

My precious pair, my tender pride,

Shriveled up, half petrified.

I cursed the wind, I cursed the sleet,

I cursed the frost that licked my seat.

Each gust a slap, each breeze a bite,

A polar grip, a frigid blight.

I longed for fire, a roaring flame,

For summer’s heat to soothe my shame.

Yet here I stood, a frozen fool,

My nuts like rocks in nature’s cruel rule.

I hobbled home, a broken man,

Clutching my junk the best I can.

Dreaming of baths, of heated bliss,

Of anything to thaw from this.

So let this tale serve as a guide,

When winter calls, don’t run outside.

Layer up, don’t tempt your fate,

Or end up in my frostbitten state.

For now I sit, wrapped up and tight,

Praying for spring, for sun, for light.

And as I heal, I vow, I swear —

To never bare my boys to air.