Sometimes, I wish I was a bear.
I would gather nuts and berries now in the last flush of autumn,
hoard my store while the air is crisp and clear
and then withdraw, hunker down, hibernate.
I would hide in the darkness
as the nights draw in
and sleep, deep in a drift
of white feathers and daydreams.
Someone please anaesthetise me
while these dark days pass over.
Wake me in the spring,
when I can recall the love of sunshine,
when I am ready to live again a full life,
not this half-life of grief.
For now, just let me sleep.