October mornings,

The breeze carries resting leaves

and scattered rain.

I open the window to take it in.

The nights are cold,

colder in the passing days,

But the window stays open.

I layer blankets and cabin socks.

The morning breeze begins to chill me,

But I embrace it, breathe it in,

Let my lungs fill with sweet memories.

The wood creaks, the wind whistles,

The chill settles.

The window stays open.

I turn the heat up, I light the fire,

I layer blankets and cabin socks.

The breeze lives inside now,

but I am nothing if not a welcoming host.

My bones grow brittle, my skin is chapped.

My lungs are full of breeze gone bitter and cold,

memories gone sour.

This house used to be a home.

Yet still in the icy dawn

A lone robin clings to the window screen.

It’s still warmer inside than out.

I take off the screen and gently,

My pallid hands lift her inside.

I close the window behind her,

and stroke her feathers as

she warms by the fire.