The chill is seeping
Through my sweatsuit
As I walk this
Cold December morning

My cheeks feel icy-
My nose is red.
(Rudolph will not get
The best of me.)

A con-trail rips
Across the sunrise sky -
White slash against
The pink-tinged blue.

An increasing yellow glow
Begins to seep its way
Slowly down the
Jagged mountains.

And the gentle rising
Of the Winter Sun
Gives promises
Of warmth and comfort.

To a world in need of both.
                                ljm