Onset

It’s coming on.

The first floor is cold

and my slippers are buried

in the guest closet

under mirrored fabric

and thick red garland.

Snow from yesterday’s storm

froze the imprinted walkway.

It’s too dark

and I am too tired

pumped with prescription drugs

to care. Instead,

I hang sheer white curtains

in the kitchen windows

drink floral tea

and anticipate the rush.

© 2013 d.c.p.