In my bones

I heard the geese this afternoon, heading somewhere south. Anywhere south.

As I walked I felt the leaves had turned sharply crisper with several deep frosts, and I flashed back to the wind the other night, tossing flake filled pockets of cold air about in the inky blackness of an early hour on the mountain.

Today I got serious.

Out with the diaphanous fabrics, and in with velvets, cords, wools, and layers upon layers of comfort and warmth.

Bathing suits seem a vision of the past. My skin turns milky white again, another year older and a bit more worn in. Early in the morning as I gaze into the rear view mirror for a CHECK ONE TWO, I notice how each year it settles more comfortably on my bones.

The late summer Yoga for Bones class taught us awareness of our bones inside the body, and how to keep them safe as we age. That seems like a distant memory as the cold reminds me of the aches which hide deep within, and I make secret bets with my bones about the weather. They often win.

So off I go to preheat the bed, to put on the flannels and wrap myself up in a robe. while Larry mumbles something about not seeing an inch of flesh again till spring. I laugh and tell him to buy me a Union Suit for Christmas, you know, the one with the drop seat?

Patti O Closing


Poetic. A person not in touch with their poetic side would have just posted "I'm getting older and I'm chilly". You give it all texture and depth.

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