Overcast Suburbs at Noon

Sequoia snuffles in her sleep.
The clouds redouble their efforts
To minimize the light and keep
Everyone under the weather

Between the mountains and salt lake
This greyest midday of the year,
Their opportunity to make
The longest shadows disappear

Along with the most dazzling hopes.
It's nap time. Our heads are woolly
As lint traps, sweaters, winter coats
And Christmas hymns dutifully

Broadcast, caroled, played and replayed
To blanket us in warm feelings
Of peace and goodwill unafraid
Of winter's lowering ceiling.