hidden from view,
in the dark, underground.
Days roll over each other and shorten,
nights hues come quicker and a chill fills the air.
The morning bite now,
they snap and crackle under my boot heels,
as I tread on the frozen ground.
The cycle spins as it always does.
Iced up windshield,
splashed water,
high pitched squeal as it touches both glass and skin.
My breath is smoky, my fingers are pink, red, now numb. And I remind myself as I do each morning: “That I must buy gloves.”
Days roll over each other and lengthen
the chill is fading, the sun hangs longer in the sky.
Fresh leaves rise from the undergrowth,
a single golden daffodil I see,
I look at it and smile,
knowing that spring will soon be here.
2008
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