Deep cold lingers here–our second long bout of it since November. Coming out of the drowsy holiday season, we’re restless and sluggish, both. Heading down the dark morning road, fine snow and exhaust swirling behind the cars ahead of us, obscuring the red of tail lights, it feels like we’re tunneling out of a cozy winter den into a rougher outer world.
But then there’s the light, a dusky blue that hangs in the air and lightens gradually as the earth rotates toward the sun. We’re tilted away from it here in the sub-arctic, as if shy of it and the intensity it brings us at other times of the year. But we long for it and turn daily toward the spot it dipped below yesterday, hoping that it will linger longer above the Alaska Range, and that we will be alert enough to be outside to see it when it does. It always stays a bit longer now–three more minutes–and soon we’ll have an hour more of light than we did at solstice.
But we don’t feel it yet, half hibernating in our layers of clothes, still sleepy from the dark. So write about what hibernates within or what you hibernate within. What draws you out of your winter cocoon?
Post your poem in the comments here and I’ll add it to this post.
Tags: 40 below, hibernation, poetry, winter, writing, writing prompt
Mattie's Pillow 
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