Are we hibernating . . .

I creak and groan as I wake.
Another day of snow, two or three inches more
atop yesterday's gift; winter's ice
glistens on the roadway.
All I want to do is pretend to be a bear,

roll over in my cave,
burrow down under my winter quilt,
hibernate until spring, when I'll emerge,
half-dazed, hungry,
groggy for coffee, maybe news
the pandemic has eased.
Later, I'll hope for an end to February. 

I'll put on my mask,
walk out to the pond to see 

those first visitors: red-winged blackbirds,
here for the season, and Canada geese,
heading north.

Image by Bergadder on Pixabay

This last week almost lost. Few days spent on writing, but I did get that second vaccine shot, one of the lucky few. Symptoms the day after? Yes, a crushing headache soon relieved with Naproxin and a long nap -- where I found this poem. 

May you be well, staying warm as this last (hopefully the last) winter storm moves through, dropping snow on mountains and even in the valleys. As my colleague from long ago used to say, "Seize the day!" Cherish the moment. Not bad advice at all.