mornings without a clock

Mornings without a clock, hours over cooling coffee, remembering strange dreams of hunger. 

Drowsy happiness with books, frustration and worry over persistent pain. Battling ache and age. Watching the sky, lighting candles. Blankets and a flickering laptop on the couch. Autumn turns into winter, the cold creeps in, evenings are dark and last longer than the days.

Staggering around doing small chores, venturing a few steps down the icy street, sometimes driving a cold car to the shop or to see people. Mostly half regretting it afterwards.

I'm no use to anyone and I'm learning that it's OK. My life is as slow as November.