Winter looming, dark thoughts invade,
worming in, intent on plunging you
into that seasonal anxiety.
Oh god, winter. Dark, black, death, cold.
There's no way to fend off the impending bleak days.
Yet, in this change of seasons comes
the search for external warmth.
Someone to crawl into
on a starry extended night.
Heavy blankets which insist
you into a sleep coma.
[It's not like you could roll over under all that weight anyway.]
When else are showers transcendent experiences?
Scalding water, testing your heat tolerance,
rolling off your lashes, dripping over your lips,
sliding along your body.
Steaming your core into submission.
This is going to be good, winter.
Why, it's an excuse to notch down,
hunker in silence
and trailing thoughts.
Letting peace and quiet have its way with you.
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