Hibernation

Huddle against the cold.
Fight the icy wind that
pierces like a knife.
Grumble.
Shiver.
Whimper.

If there is a sun behind the gray,
I cannot see it.
The blanket of clouds covers,
smothers...
Push back the blanket
and let me breathe.

Spring will come
and the gray will go.
But for now,
I must wait
and hold my breath.