looking out the window

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My dreams throw me back and fourth till I feel sick, finally I am released from their grip into a crisp winter morning. I wrench myself from bed and sluggishly pull up the blind. As I gaze outside I see the grass and trees sodden with thick due. Reflections dance in the drops like tiny TVs so smooth and round but they do not make a sound. Between the grasses their lies snow from many, many nights ago. When it fell it seemed so light and pearly white but now it sinks and slugs and squishes and it squashes it squelches and belches and it turns a darkish gray and no one wants to say what turned it quite that way. But soon it will be gone and spring will spring and the birds will sing and we’ll be warm again. But till that day all I can say is come look what will be, when the snow melts and the birds sing and the ice cracks and the sun shines bright again. As for now I sit and wait whishing I could hibernate, eat a lot then snuggle down and don’t wake up till spring. Yes I would sleep all winter if I could but you see I think that I might have to pee.





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