Melted

the sun is heating again
melting, melting, melting
we fade into our routines
tomorrow
forgetting
the camaraderie of our abodes
keeping us sheltered
touching on occasions
of those who do not have
that luxury
(if it can be called so)
of having that cover
over their heads
stewing the soups
of yesteryear
in kitchens
the hearth after all
is steeping in winter
because we have to
acknowledge the frozen
the cold, the ice
and steam up the bodies
with work of shoveling
(which is not that bad
when you do it carefully)
after which you dissolve
the marshmallows
(if you have any)
in your hot cocoa
just as were you a child
coming in from play
in the frozen snow
you melt