The Bleak Winter Sun

The bleak winter sun
fights to display its light, its warmth
fighting through a soft layer of
middle-gray clouds.

They, like a mouse nest blanket
try to warm the earth,
taking the sun’s role
(a prideful move).

I watch down here,
down on this windy earth
and
experience the duvet of pride.

[This same rat's nest clogs my soul.]

I yell within,
“Move out of the way!”
(Repent!)
…nothing changes.

I measure:
Spring will come,
spring will come.
Things will be

made right, made new.