Chills

Winter Morning Soliloquy

with a nod to William Shakespeare

To walk or not to walk, that is the question:
Whether 'tis wiser for the feet to suffer
The slips and slides of this ice-crusted morning
Or else to take the car through drifts of snow,
And then by gunning the engine, to get stuck
Or worse; or should we stay in bed and sleep,
Avoiding the thousand natural barriers
To a productive day? 'Tis a consummation
Lazily to be wished. To rest, to sleep—
Perchance to dream of spring. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that lazy sleep, what dreams may come,
When we lie idle on our soft King-Koil,
Must give us pause. Consider self-respect:
There is calamity in shirking risks
And dodging all the whips of waking hours,
Though cold oppresses us, our pride insulted
By our despised snow gear. We would delay
The donning of our boots, and we would spurn
The bulky merits of sleet-worthy coats,
But winter will not let us make our peace
Bare-bottomed 'neath the sheets. No, we must bear
The air out there, work up a sweat, live life
On winter's terms. Come on, it isn't death—
Just unforgiving cold, from which we fear
That we'll return frostbitten. Find the will
That makes us rather bear these challenges
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus conscience should make walkers of us all,
Our cheeks the rosy hue of resolution;
Not pale but healthy, we devote our thoughts
To enterprises we'll pursue the moment
We get home. Ice may force our feet awry
And we may lose our balance, falling hard—
So to fair Mother Nature we send prayers
That sinless saunterers will be remembered.

by Jean L. Kreiling
in volume 5 issue 2

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