Looking out from the kitchen
At the arthritic crabapple branch
Quivering in the latest of late night light
You think how cold it must be,
How hard to be an animal
Or a person
Outside in this wind
As you cross the floor barefoot
Back to your dark soft cave
You recall that nature show –
The arctic groundhogs who shiver
As they hibernate
To warm up just enough to
Neither perish nor fully wake
How many nights could your
Whole body shake and manage to sleep
Through it? Could you?
“What kind of raspy-shuffle
Spectre would I become on that sleep?
How long would it take”?
You wonder as you
Slide under the blanket
And the cat comes to find the space
You make by your belly
Where he purrs and purrs, drawing
The shiver and gnaw
From your very core,
Absorbing it all until
Your eyes close just as they notice
In the earliest of early morning light
The silver outline of willow branches
Appearing outside the window.
