This gray cold
never gets old
through the fog
I can log
my very steps
as I schlep
like some villain
fog or cloud 
this mountain shroud
it even obscures 
the soupy cure
of days bright 
now dimmed sunlight 
I mountain man 

Different duvet covers 
shield the down
one white and 
the other cocoa
each one casts
a different light 
one bright and 
the other cozy
like lovers blanket 

Some maybe most 
refuse to float
or try flying 
preferring to bounce 
about getting kicked 
and blown around 
balloons and beach
balls both being 
round except that 
beach balls belong 
on the ground 
and balloons well
are skyward bound 

I have grown 
fond of this 
a soft blanket 
kind of quiet 
like a dog 
who’s found his 
place in sun
or in front 
of the fire 
let them all 
go scurry about 
me I’m going 
to squirrel dream 

I don’t pretend 
those old days 
are now gone 
present and truth
are all that’s 
left after the 
layers of paint 
and varnish have 
all been removed 
just bare wood 
a knotty pine 
soft and lined