Small town, home town sleep in when its cold and the sun is up and out cant quite cut the winter but your quilts protect you with the smell of the closet and detergent - the kind your mother still buys. You look to your left, towards the window at the sun and you see your half-glass of water with a top shell of ice. you look towards the right and see the back of your eyelids as you pull the quilts up, tucking them under your shoulder and stretching out your legs to feel the wood of the foot board as you smell the hair strewn across the pillow next to you. You slide back into sleep thinking about yesterday's rain while you cleared the garage - up in the rafters, pulling down boxes of Christmas ornaments and busted up chairs - so close you can hear it pounding through the shingles inches from your ear. Animals stir and bells ring out lightly enough to guide your dreams. The smell of bacon and eggs makes you taste orange pulp on your lips. The sky is clear. The tree goes up today.