Winter Morning Routine

You start your morning 

in fleece pajamas

summoning the courage

to remove yourself

from the people-dehydrator

known as the electric blanket

that gave you reprieve from the night chill

and dreams of burning desserts.

Mental countdown complete

you burst forth in cannon shot

to land like a Ninja

jabbing your feet in darting thrusts

into strategically placed bedside slippers

and with a sweeping toreador pass

quickly wrap yourself in your wearable blanket - 

the bath robe,

resurrected from the back of the closet

and not worn since that summer morning

when you staggered outside to get the mail

thereby announcing to the neighbors 

you had a cold and would not be going to work.

You race in hurried snow-shoe-like shuffles 
across cold floors 

down the hall to the steamy shower

with only one quick stop 
to wake the slumbering furnace

so you can enjoy breakfast 
in your climate controlled kitchen

while you stare at images of “Real Florida Oranges”

and wonder what, if anything,
The Quaker has to do with oatmeal.

Standing at the doorway

ready to brave the cold brisk morning

you shudder slightly 
at the thought of your ice box car

and then, as it is done every morning, 
you deliver the declaration 
that the winter version of The Bermuda Triangle lives on:

"Where the hell is my other glove?"

Variations on this theme 

performed daily all across the world

yet sometimes

when I see pictures of people shoveling driveways

for the chance to have their cars 

dance a dangerous glide on slippery freeways

in winter-white scenes

I feel a bit embarrassed by us folks here in California

faithfully executing this winter morning routine

and all the while whining about 

51 degrees and cloudless skies.

Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   November 2013