winter
December 13, 2016 § 7 Comments
The days dawn cold and I draw further beneath blankets and rest, rituals of comfort to spite the season; sustenance to fortify my body and layers to ward off the cold.
I curl lazily into the routine of coffee, the patience of tea; my hands lingering around the inconsequential weight of unfinished dregs. Each layer of clothing is a ceremony of thoughtful details for the day’s demands, a belabored exaggeration of caution in protest of discomfort.
Activities have become more mindful, less spontaneous. Errands are graded more genuinely by need as I relax into the pages of forgotten book titles and the corners of unfinished tasks. The joyful chaos of holiday trappings are a clever distraction of light, a willful irrelevance for the hour in a stubborn disregard for time.
It is only when the stars interrupt lost minutes of daydreams that I rediscover Summer’s recklessness and Autumn’s whimsy; tumbling into tenderness and reverence for Winter’s stark elegance.
scribblechic 
Winter time is a dreamers delight. Cold, but holding you in its warmth of those dreams 🙂
Beautifully written Marie 😀
Thank you, Mark.
winter for love, not for ,peace…
I think the span of winter holds room enough for both love and peace.
Thank you.
Just dropping in to say that I continue to enjoy your scribbles 🙂 Haven’t been commenting much as I mainly read it on the ‘phone but it’s still a joy to read.
I’m so glad you did! It is the season for well-wishes and tidings of joy. As much as I love your thoughtful comments, I appreciate the unapologetic authenticity of your honesty.
In that vein, I’ve read fewer blogs and more books of late. Commented less online and written more, offline. Some days I am lonely for the serendipitous friendships of other writers, other days it is enough to sit among my words or get lost in the pages of another’s work.
No need to comment. All to say, thank you.