Cold creeps through my bedroom slippers,
and through the thin flannel of my gown.
I shiver in the early spring chill,
not willing to light the fires again
after months of their heat
crazing my legs with dryness.
I grab a robe, pick up my coffee mug
and huddle in the porch rocker,
refusing to give up on the promise
offered so temptingly by sunlight
streaming through bare branches.
The calendar says is is mid-April
and I will have my coffee on the porch
and shiver, willing this day to bring me warmth.