It is Morning. Crisp. Cold. Brutal. The Sun is at least shining.
Hot Coffee brewing, smelling divine.
Shivering as I awaken. Going through the motions.
Putting on clothes, socks and lotions.
Warming by the Hot, Hot Stove. The wood, crackling, burning.
Popping. Hot Cakes bubbling. The smell, yearning.
Cold Artic Winds make noses red.
Get through the Day, Whew! Time for Bed!
