In winter darkness, a call is necessary
to determine the fate of the day.
With bleary eyes, spikes, snarls, tangles
cotton-mouth and rumpled pjs
I listen to that bodiless, familiar voice.
“Hey Hounds! Pull out the fatties!
Ten inches of pow and complete bluejay.”

Energy surges and muscles twitch
half-dreams dissolve into clarity
Oh no, I’m late. Everyone and their dog
will be there in panting anticipation.

Hair ugh, food, later, brush teeth tomorrow.
Oh please Rusty Faithful, just once more.
Frosted windows, icy roads, cowboys
in tortoise pickups, rattling towards
that haven above the valley clouds.

A kaleidoscopic human serpent flexes,
surges, growling impatiently, waiting.
Barriers drop, howls of delight erupt.
We sweep upward rushing toward the sun.
 
Copyright © tracien, All Rights Reserved