Wait Winter out.

Looking out of my bedroom window and down onto the blanketed Earth Mother Nature took to tuck in last night while I wasn't watching. Forced into treading lightly, forced into the soft steps of a fox trot and out into the bitter biting cold of morning. Watching as the condensation my breath is made up of floats away into the streetlight's rays that only seem to exist in the early day; watching what existed turn into nothing but the waiting that comes before becoming something else. From this point on this moment will be referred to as cocooning. When will Spring have sprung up on the young love reserved for children on snow days and landscapers surprised by the burgeoning blossoms of tulips; or any two lips just before six a.m. I am overwhelmed by the daunting lines of a shovel pressing on through the collected snowflakes of a drift at the far corner of the house I live in but only wish I grew up in. I fabricate memories out of old ones, those discarded by whomever lived here first, and with pieces of my own. Bastardizing my childhood to better suit this snowy early hour, bastardizing my childhood to better look back on it fondly though I never seemed to have a hard time before. I just wish that it existed in here. Staring down onto the street and watching its veins show on the beaten road that would be cobblestone if only I'd been born before my grandfather, I was obviously not. Salt the streets, scare the snow back into hiding in sewers where it waits to become rain again with any luck. But for now pull the blind closed, closer still, closer to the end of a day though it's only just beginning. Lay your head back down, lay it right here on my chest and we'll find our way back to sleep. If I find it first I'll come back to get you if you promise to try and do the same. Let's escape Winter like Harry Houdini, try to lay here and hibernate, let's pretend that Mother Nature was really only trying to tuck us in here and let's wait the Winter out.