Day starts late, suppressed
by the covers’ sodden weight;
midmorning by the time I rise
and dress to walk the patient dog.
White sheet of clouds obscures
the sky, shaved clean by blades
of arctic wind that pierce through
fleece and wool, so we retreat.
Wavy-glass panes protest
each gust, but no chill intrudes,
and we bask in our solitude,
the sun-drunk cat, the dog, and I.
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: raider of gin/flickr