Poetry, Thought

Midwinter Dreaming

It’s the end of the beginning. The last day today until we move to tomorrow, which may or may not come.
What if there is no tomorrow?
There wasn’t one yesterday!

Funny man.

So we toss the old roses, beautiful even in their death, into a pile of frigid soft snow, and slide back through the door to find warmth from the cold. 

It’s not what you think. 

I promise.
It’s warm and soothing in here, even in tiny spaces. It’s all we need ((for now)) while we slumber, and patiently ride it out. 

There is something so new–
On the horizon.
I can smell it…
I can sense it!
I can almost taste it! 
Breakfast for perfect strangers who want to see how we roll. 
It’s coming. 
I know.

And there’s nothing I need from you. I have it all in my head, these dreams I’ve been holding for thousands of days, in thousands of ways.
I’m actually quite flexible… in my rigid goat momma state. 

Take it from me though, she is the keeper of dreams. 
It’s an important job. 
Without her hands, warm in the cold, holding them dear, protecting them close — 
Those dreams would have been buried long ago.

The protector of dreams… I like that.
While others may miss the point, and drill the rigidity down your throat
She will pay attention, momma goat.
She will put it all in her silent snowy summer list, the one running in her mind. 
And she’ll hold you to it! 
It takes a courageous person to walk against the crowd, blaze their own trail, 
Dream out loud. 

After all, what if there is no tomorrow?
All we have is right now.

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