On the thirty-first of January

I long for warmth — hands and feet always cold…

the sun — so far away it doesn’t even melt the icicles

hanging from the roof,

or the snow on the spruce branches.

Blue skies?

Mostly the dark gray sky just turns a lighter shade of pale;

morning is only told by the smell of coffee.

The cat takes refuge in the warm dryer.

 

Yet there are glimmers —

spirit-lifting bluebirds fly around in the snow;

a bit of brown grass shows underneath the pines;

each day brings an extra minute of precious light.

Feb. 3, 2015: Sunrise 7:04  Sunset 5:16  10 hours 12 minutes of daylight… and counting.