November dawn hangs against the window like wet hair.
\nArising has become a wrestling match with the sheets,
\ninvolves dis-entangling, rolling, pivoting, seeking balance,
\ndefying gravity’s hooks into joints and eyesockets.
\nThe cold knuckle of the wind raps at the window.
\nFumble, snap on the light: illumination consoles, nurtures
\nsome hope that the rumours of the sun’s departure are
\npropaganda, malicious fabrications of the moon, jealousies
\nfomented and elicited by jealous Saturn, shivering alone
\nin his sunless cellar.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I noticed this morning that my friends on Facebook were complaining about the weather. (#980) Continue reading