Winter Slumber

season of rolling horizons holding life beyond what we see when winter hangs in bare trees silver branches bedding down in a hangover of lost green beyond city limits, forests fall into slumber waiting for a seasonal flip to loosen the grip of cold huff and puffed winds cocooning one to a protective box the hold of a robust time that loves its own white ruin in this air of frigid authority, my life of reading to snoozing a peaceful indifference like the weightlessness of wooing free of complications I have a soft spot for thoughts that drift to the mundane like a lost mitten in the snow maybe I'll keep the bedroom door shut and locked till a warming April sun knocks its intrusion slicing open a greener terrain a garden that asks for seeding for now, in these darkening days shadows, like mob rule, carry their own power readying slumber folded in the margins of my book its script of possibilities