Copyright © 2013 C.L. Mannarino
All rights reserved.
I lie in bed not wanting to move,
pulling the covers farther up over my head and winking out the window at the all-encompassing dark.
My car sits, frozen under a layer of fog and ice, in the driveway,
a long trail of exhaust slipping into the atmosphere as the windows slowly melt and drip condensation onto the slick black pavement.
Hot tea and toast after a quick, scalding shower, and my hat sits low on my head.
The shovel awaits.
Keeping one eye on the clock, I haul snow from the door and around my car, the trees shaking flakes from their pines to dust my back and chill my fingertips through the thin material of my knit gloves.
The warmth of holidays can never come soon enough and I dream of hours spent in soft socks, lamplight, and books, the wood stove growling at the other end of the room.