The skies appear too gray
daylight seems to shrink
and shrink – and shrink
the chill of even the warmest
afternoon hours, seemingly
cannot manage to truly warm us

As we crawl deeper into
our billowing pile of blankets
resisting the cold, dark morning hours, we cling
 to the illusion of comfort in warmth and light
as the tiny crocus corm
contently grows in icy darkness

in our incessant seeking
of the warmth, light, comfort
of all we feel we do not have
we deny ourselves the ripe, potent gift
of freely and joyfully living
our Garden of Promises

© Carol Alleman 2010