Sometimes, when afternoons turn heavy as used furniture, when I close my eyes on the bus, or open a window at home to create a dot-to-dot flight pattern to the nearest mountain, I think of my brother floating. My brother in 1978, with Bob Dylan hair, in the lotus position. In a meditation room, in Israel, suspended between floor and ceiling, buoyant as a soap bubble. He went there, with his wife
making a bon voyage of the cold, our breath coming in little gasps
Strange stuff.
CJ may be right, but a possible reading if the original could be: saying good riddance/good bye/bon voyageto the cold (if he had had a cold, or if the temperatures had been low:-))
Maybe this author just likes to be mysterious. I'm just glad we weren't asked to explain "open a window at home to create a dot-to-dot flight pattern to the nearest mountain." [:^)]