Where does it come from,
this deep desire to hibernate through the month of January?
Others may joyfully leap into the cold morning air,
grab their skis and poles and head for the hills...
but not I.
I have three layers on,
beneath this old sweater,
two pairs of socks to squeeze into the boots.
I bribe myself through chore time with
promises of hot tea and a lazy hour near the fire.
I have to give myself pep talks
before making the morning commute.
My modern side, woman of the 21st century that I am,
encourages year round mobility;
"Shrug it off," she says, "dive in, be strong."
My inner-bear,
my sleepy
winter
homebody
self,
pours another streaming mug of tea,
grabs a book or maybe three,
curls up on the couch,
beneath a cozy quilt,
and ignores the call to action.
It is winter.
Let us rest,
restore,
and patiently wait for spring.
