Winter

Is come.

The sun crawls across the ceiling

And sets the paper globe ablaze

With interstellar fire.

It does not raise me.

————

I answer a call of nature

And notice the air is not cold

But return to my bed,

Duvet

Leisure

————-

A weekend spreads before me.

A breakfast is to be cooked,

A cake, perhaps, to be baked.

And there is disorder

That ought to be countered.

—————

When it rains,

The skylight dribbles

On the bathroom floor.

I could investigate

Now that it’s dry,

Perhaps there is a channel

That I can clear,

So I won’t get wet feet

Before I reach the shower?

—————-

I’m not setting too high

The expectations

Of myself.

Nothing is asked

By anyone of me,

So I might stay abed,

A while more.

———-

Hello winter,

My old friend.