Crawling into your own bed
after being away
Taking off those three-inch heels
after a long day

Everybody’s Christmas lights
shining down the block
A small hand slipped into your own
while going for a walk

Water quenching hard-worked thirst
A toy from long ago
Dinner someone else has made
The fireplace aglow

A sleepy snoring puppy
weighing warmly on your lap
“I’ll start your car and scrape it off”
A fuzzy hand-knit cap

A gentle touch, a sturdy hug
The way they say your name
In a year of ups and downs
the comforts still remain

Published in the Winter edition of Capsule Stories

The steam rose
from the coffee mug
tufting in and out
of existence

One of those
February days when
the heat just
can’t keep up

and the effort required
to leave the warm cocoon
of bedsheets
was Herculean

Crawling back in and
burrowing into the blankets and
mentally adding to the growing
list of things to do, I

feel a weariness that caffeine
cannot touch
Maybe I can post that mail tomorrow
Maybe I don’t have to clean the floor

Maybe I’ll just
stay in bed
an hour
(day
week
month)
more

Morning coffee
by the bay

Warmest it will
be all day

Nodding to the
passers by

Gradual brightness
in the sky

Breathing in the
early chill

Relishing the
eerie still

Slipping back
into my room

Drifting off
til afternoon

Waking just to
take it slow

Laze away the
winter woe

Tired
is such a
small word

Too small
to hold
this crushing weight

A boa constrictor
wrapped around
existence

Muscle crumbling
like shortbread
in winter

Tired implies
in need
of rest

But I’m
in need
of every breath