warmer things

February in Michigan. And cold white light fights to brighten the room. It’s no wonder so many of us turn. To warmer things. Blankets on the couch. Heavy food. Sweet drink. Warm bodies at night. So that at least, for a while, things are right. Snow out there. Moisture so heavy in the air it’s like breathing water. And maybe that’s what I need today. To take a deep breath. Let the lungs fill up. With liquid. Like it used to be. So long ago. Nothing demanded. Nothing to do, but simply be. But this is only a writer. Bursting at the creative seams. Needing so much to get out. And find you. In a dark, cozy bar. At the bottom of a bottle. The rim of a glass. You. Everywhere I look. So that I’m reminded of what it is we have. At home. In our little house. In the town that always sleeps. With my books. Your paintings. And this…the coming together. In these small keys. The most beautiful thing. Us, with our broken feathers. Weathered wings. Perched together in the soul. Bigger than Hope. More profound than Truth. Beyond the red hearts, dark chocolate, and diamonds that some mistake for Love. We have risen from the dark. Together this cold February day. Into the cold white light. And it is you, my sweet. That brightens this old boy’s room. It’s no wonder I’ve turned to such warmer things. ~ K.J.