Cocooned - Dec 15 2025

 

Cocooned

Dec 15 2024

Cold room, warm bed.

I am cocooned 

in a heap of blankets, comforters, quilts

made of wool

cotton twill

polar fleece,

goose down

humanely plucked

from happy birds.

They pin me down,

secure

beneath their reassuring weight.

While underneath, the synthetic foam gives

and I sink into its shallow depression 

just enough to feel held.

More half-hearted hug

than close embrace;

like a great aunt who hasn’t aged well

and wears too much perfume

you’ve never met before. 

I am adrift

in that pleasant nether state 

between wakefulness and sleep,

contained

in the cozy nest

I’ve made for myself.

We spend a lifetime

searching for happiness,

often not sure

what that even is.

Yet what could be more delightful

than taking to your bed,

swaddled snugly

with toasty feet and a cool head?

I open my eyes

and watch my breath condense

in the cold arctic air

beyond my cozy bubble. 

Then let them drift slowly shut,

curled on my side

and the covers tucked

even tighter ‘round my neck.

Until, at last, I snuggle in 

for the deep oblivious sleep

of unremembered dreams

and unencumbered rest.