Winter's Morning, Run to the Shore

On the days when our hands freeze as we write
When our breath floats out and hovers in the air

Like so many gulls suspended in flight

Let us run to the beach.

When huddling by the fire is no longer fun

And itchy arms long to stretch their wings

In the soft and low slung winter sun

Let us run to the sea.

Don't say we should be doing something else

Like reading or writing or 'rithmatic.

Let the dishes pile up on table, in sink,

Let the work wait, come quick,

Let us run to the shore

And plunge our toes into the soft sand.

Let us race right up to the surf

Stare it down, feel how grand

It is. And run from it laughing.

There is only today, here and now.

Yesterday is long gone and tomorrow

Is just a dream not yet invented.