The Stony Hue of a January Morn

January1 of 3

there is
no beauty
in a January snow
and
it conveys
no possibilities-

January cold
does not touch your nose
or tickle your skin-
it begins in your bones
deep in your marrows
then slinks out
like a death
never letting go-

there is a limit
in our cold, cold steps
and each could be the fated last
but we trudge
trudge
trudge forward
never running
forever counting down-

the sun is lost
baked red, hidden away-
the gray clouds will not free it
trapped like an animal
in a dark covered cave
waiting and growling deep-

when the world ends
it will look like a January morn-
quiet-
soulless-
colorless-
void-
and no amount of breath will bring it back-

2 of 3

A few days ago I turned my car around, worried that I had left the dog outside, picturing her shaking, freezing, falling deeper and deeper into that cold sleep, but I knew, I knew!, I’m not that stupid and would never make that heinous mistake but the thing is I had an uncle that did make that mistake once (I should point out- not blood related), he had left his little dog outside to go pee one night and forgot and the next morning his children awoke to a dog popsicle and that is what I pictured for my dog, my sweet dog who has  guarded my family, slept by my children, and complains if she doesn’t get enough attention (she does), which is funny because she was not by my choice that was my wife’s, I just came home one day to see a newly bought dog dish on the table and the news of the perfect puppy at the pound, and I just imagined and imagined and imagined that dog frozen into a ball, crying its last, waiting, waiting for me to save her and then…

She was fine, toasty and sleeping fast on my pillow.

3 of 3

-Every morning, my three-year old daughter wants me to pick out her clothes but is never, ever happy with my selections (shirt too tight/shirt not tight enough/no jeans/no tights/no tutus/no kitties/pink/pink/pink).

-Every morning, my daughter knows exactly what she wants for breakfast (cereal/pear/banana/granola bar/bagel with cream cheese/toast), but only eats two bites and throws the rest in the sink, ruined.

-Every morning, my daughter has to use the bathroom when I am in the middle of my shower.

-Every morning, my daughter doesn’t want to wear a sweater, no matter how cold it is outside.

-Every morning, my daughter has to have the right chewable vitamin.

-Every morning, my daughter picks the tunes we will hear in the car (a princess singing or OK Go). Play it again. Play it again.

-Every morning, dropping her off at the day care is the hardest part of my day, watching her turn away, knowing in her mind I had already left.

-Every morning.

-Every morning.

-But, every afternoon, picking her up is the absolute best with a hug that could be life-sustaining.

A Jane Austen DaydreamIf you liked reading this post, why not check out one of my books? I’ve just had a book published collecting some of my most popular posts. It is entitled Me Stuff.

If fiction is more your thing, I’ve had four novels published in the last few years, A Jane Austen Daydream, Maximilian Standforth and the Case of the Dangerous Dare, My Problem With Doors and Megan.

You can find all of these books via my amazon.com author page here. Thanks for reading!

Need an editor? Dream of finishing that book but need some help? Learn about my editing services by visiting this page on my site. Or you can contact Rebecca T. Dickson and request to work with me by clicking the image below.

Rebecca T. Dickson, Editor

 

 

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