cold, ungiving, unfeeling.
The sun comes up - I find a cave.
January and February
are hibernating months.
He calls me again, his voicea new pitch of buttery-yellow
over my gray fog. Honey, he says,
I’m so excited about this house.
I look forward to us being there ,
starting life over this one last time.
I come out of hibernation,greet the radiant sun, try to meet
expectations. It works like a charm.
I acted and now I am.