Snow Day

Feb 12 2012

My breath turns to fog

heat off.
I sleep best in cold
well-nested,
held down
by the reassuring heft
of bedclothes,
stacked impossibly high

Trees creak, windows rattle,

as a north wind blasts

and the mercury sags

even lower.

Heavy comforters

tugged-up about my neck,

feet tucked snugly

body muffled.

Cocooned

undercover.

The clock is turned

to face the wall,

curtains drawn.

School closed, work cancelled, roads

impassable.

Or so I hope.

I am lighter than air,

the force of displacement

tugging me up

into wakefulness,

as the weight of lassitude

draws me back.

I grasp at fragments of dreams,

burrow into the heat

of the bed.

On the luxurious cusp

of sleep,

I teeter between

desire

and need.

The urgency of the world recedes,

these sacrosanct walls

impregnable.

A snow day

has been called,

or did I dream it?

Either way,

let sleep reclaim me.

Let busyness wait

Let snow

blanket the world.