Sunlight crawls along my window
with cat paws and purring ice.

Even the queen of daylight
prefers shades of green to
the moldy gray clouds
hanging from her eyelashes.

It is ironic that a step out my door
there is no warmth in the golden orb’s
caress, yet a wink through glass
is as warm as the blanket I dream beneath.

Too cold to do more
than reach for imagination
I watch a small spider make
its trek across a windowpane and wonder
if the silk threads of its web are
a vain attempt to knit a sweater for the sun.