Ode to Winter

I woke this morning to a muted light

Struggling to make its way through the seemingly frosted glass

Except it wasn’t that cold last night

It was merely the condensation filling the pane

Creating the illusion of winter’s cold grip.

As it cleared, the freshly washed blue sky shone,

A billion particles reflecting a light not their own,

That had travelled millions of miles to see me.

Somewhere in the trees I heard a cockatoo squawk,

It’s high-pitched call piercing my ears

And jolting me fully awake and aware of my surroundings.

The floorboards were like ice as I swung my feet down,

A rude shock after the warmth of the down doona,

And it made me recoil for a moment,

not wanting to make the trip across its unforgiving surface.

Arise I must, even if my bed is so inviting,

To face another day of brisk air and too many clothes,

While hurriedly chasing errands that never seem to end.

The café around the corner is calling to me,

It’s walls line with books and the tables nestled in,

Inviting me to rest my weary bones, enjoy the warmth

And, perhaps, indulge in a cup of peppermint tea

With a small lemon tart beside.

Afterwards, as I meander home past the park,

Children are laughing and playing,

Their beanies slipping over their eyes

As they play chasing games on the grass.

They argue with their mothers over having to wear those gloves,

The ones grandma made last winter,

As their fingers turn a delicious shade of blue.

Shops advertise their specials – scarves and bed socks,

Hooded jackets and woollen pants for every occasion,

But none catch my fancy as I wrap my cardigan a little tighter

Against the fresh breeze straight off the Antarctic.

Finally, I have returned home to the snuggly comfort of the couch,

A cat curled in the slight bend of my knee,

And a good book to read as I await the child from school,

Jumper left in a classroom and lunch half eaten, no doubt.