The comfort of old friends

Morning again, another day 

Of social dark, though sunlight tosses

Sparkles on my lap, like sprinkles on a cone;

Sweet blessings to remind me

Of the Spring that’s yet to come.

I turn to my dearest, oldest friends for comfort:

Hafiz, a cup of coffee; a rocking chair, a fire;

The sculpture friend Anita made,

And just around the corner, 

another person struggles for

The breath that still comes easily for me.