Another Cold December Day

By John I. Blair

Another cold December day,
Gray and gloomy,
Chance of rain or snow, me
Tucked into my self-made tomb.

Spring seems so far
And hope a fading myth at last
For boxing up along
With ornaments and wreaths.

But then I look outside
To see a pudgy squirrel,
Surprised, drop down
From the feeder he was rifling,

Pause a moment on the deck rail,
Then go galumphing off
Toward the yard, his bushy tail
Wagging me a rude farewell.

If he can be so bold
Out there in the ragged world
How can I not at least break fast
And set again upon my own way?

©2014 John I. Blair

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