"Bedtime" by Bill Keenan

Bedtime
  Others may put on coats and hats, but I undress for Winter. When I hear her 
  blustering up over the meadow I shed the last of my golden clothes. Stripped 
  bare, I stretch my knotted fingers skyward and dig my gnarled toes into the 
  moist earth. Yawning at the cold sun in the dusk of the year, I wave my nude 
  branches one last time at the birds passing overhead. I am glad I do not have 
  to leave my winter bed for some warmer spot. As the wind passes by and 
  whispers good-bye, I look upward and see the clouds bringing my white downy 
  blanket. Winter dusts my eyes with sleeping powder and I nod off into a 
  dreamless sleep. I do not care if Spring ever comes. I am not setting my 
  alarm. I want this frozen night to last forever.

Posted on The Writers' Voice May 2, 2000.