shivering hands

once the characters all die off
 we'll be halfway through a script that needs revision.
 the words are counting on the letters
 that incidentally feel the same.
 they just wait until they can see their breath
 because winter isn't afraid of death.
 the clouds aren't afraid of sky
 and the sun is not afraid of night.
 but when buttons are fastened by shivering hands
 while death shoots into the sky through a well lit night-
 well-
 i'll be shaking in my boots.