Winter

In the winter we must clip our wings
we must allow the ice growing over our heads
and accept a nature inflicted hibernation

in the mornings I wake in the warm nest
of blankets and think,
"I could sleep forever,"

outside seems unbearable
but late at night kevin forces me into the fog
sitting along the river we realize
it isn't so cold - so unbearable

a coat, a hat, a pair of gloves

sitting beside the bank
we speak of gardens
vegetables and herbs in beds set on the south facing deck in the spring and summer
harvest enough to feed us and the neighbors
I stroke my fingers along frozen ground

but we must remain present
it is winter.