Archive
08/18/09 - (1)
Open Windows
An exhilarating chill fills my cabin, this early morning. The outdoors took its cue, last evening, When I invited it in, to sleep with me.
It was a simple sign we'd arranged between us. If I felt so inclined, I'd leave all my windows open, Which I did, before climbing into dreams.
Now, the kitchen-porch thermometer reads fifty-six. The sun's up; the sky's blue; The lake, flowing perpendicularly to the shore, is rippled.
I can tell this is going to be another scintillating day, Though my icy bones and goose-pimpled flesh, Shivering visibly, have yet to warm to the prospect.
Sipping steaming decaf, from a double-thick mug, I recall how, in my Wisconsin-summering youth, I'd spend two months at the boys' camp,
Where I and my mates, in our uninsulated cabins, With only canvas tarps covering the screened windows, Would have called last evening a "three-blanket night."
Perhaps I still crave these frigid wake-up visitations Because they reconnect me with another me, Relocate both of us in the flow of life.
Maybe this is why, when I'm here and the air is nippy, I leave all the windows open, go to bed, Hoping the cold will hold me close, under the covers.
08/18/09 - (1)
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