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Bedtime
by
Bill Keenan
Others may put on coats and hats, but I undress for Winter. When I hear
her blustering up over the meadow I shed the last of my golden clothes.
Stripped bare, I stretch my knotted fingers skyward and dig my gnarled toes
into the moist earth. Yawning at the cold sun in the dusk of the year, I wave
my nude branches one last time at the birds passing overhead. I am glad I do
not have to leave my winter bed for some warmer spot.
As the wind passes by and whispers good-bye, I look upward and see the clouds bringing my white downy blanket. Winter dusts my eyes with sleeping powder and I nod off into a dreamless sleep. I do not care if Spring ever comes. I am not setting my alarm. I want this frozen night to last forever.
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