Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Just a Little Hibernation

.
I wrap the Snowman blanket snugly 
About my perennially frozen feet,
Its twin ready to soften the armrest 
That will soon lie beneath my head.
Next I select Nature Sounds or Spa Radio 
From the Pandora list and stretch out 
In the corner of this leather expanse
Called a Conversation Nook,
In which conversations, beyond comments
On plot and performance, rarely occur.

I close my eyes, which only serves to highlight 
The phrases marching behind their lids.
They refuse to hold hands and become sentences.
Rather they are content to circle like 
Incompetent clusters of crows that
Lack the will to become a murder.

I am surprised to be awake.
This is, after all, nap time 
When I, no less predictably 
Than a two-year old, should rub my eyes 
And blink off to Nod or some other nap world.
Instead I lie here, concerned that 
More will be expected of me, come evening,
Than my nap-deprived self can deliver.
Conversation - even repartee?
Decisions of which I will be barely conscious,
But to which I will  be committed?

I feel a strong sense of kinship 
With a bear I have never met.
Still wandering snow-swept slopes 
In November's deepening cold.
Unable to find a snug cave for winter's nap,
He grows anxious that, deprived of hibernation,
He may never see another Spring.
.

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