Cold Mornings
Cold Mornings
Awakening to days whose foggy mornings
bow to the dark hoofs of the midnight horse.
Covering myself in thick blankets, attempting to
divert the cold that
extends itself through my muscles and bones, its
frequency jarring my joy,
grating against my skin. Softness
hidden now, how will
I walk again?
Jarred as I am, when will I
know I’ll never be
left alone again, not just forgotten, not left all on
my own,
not cold, I crave a deeper warmth.
Over the ground,
pedals cracking through icy green,
quickly emerging from the shadows, up the hills, just
reaching,
searching for the sun.
Triumphing over every small pain,
unable to let go and be broken, instead letting the constant
velocity hurtle me through the cold mornings.
Wading through reasons to smile,
x-ing out the parts that don’t make sense, but
yearning to pedal fast enough,
zealously enough to stay warm against this creeping frost.
The Voice
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Cold Mornings
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a state of mind
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