Dark Windows Dark Dark


I feel the day’s brevity
like sleeves too short
when I was fifteen
and my wrists were exposed
to Detroit’s dull December
I pulled down the seams
but they would not stretch
any further
nor would my gloves
come up.

I feel the day’s brevity
and yawn like a bear
thinking ‘it must be time’
but the hands have barely budged
to seven, I struggle
through spoonfuls of caldeo
think warm thoughts watching
long night’s darkness
slurp yawn slurp
time pushes hard
and the covers greet me soft
at eight.

I feel the day’s brevity
under heavy blankets
dark windows dark dark
coffee lovely coffee
can only do so much
to wake this old girl up
it is not the compass I need
my drowsy desert sun to rise
rise rise and remember
the fun of sunshine and bright
things, hello? anyone out there?

Alas, the longest nights
can only mean they will shorten
soon they will shorten soon
my mantra as a tiny flashlight guides
my dog’s morning stroll I know
minutes will add themselves slowly
to the litany of January
of February nights they will thin
grow thinner they will run like prey
reaching March and leaping
over the gray ridge of winter
and suddenly
light will awaken me
instead of an alarm.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash


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