imageThere are times
When winter settles into your bones
And old Arthur comes a’stealing
When nothing else matters
Except a warm fire
Maude’s old blanket and
A hot cup of orange-spice tea
Cupped into cold hands
All with an international flare
I want nothing
Except to lie down
And orientate myself to the sun
Where there are only grey snow clouds
To just sit upon this cozy day
No clocks
No scheduled tasks
Just me