Wool Blanket Season.

Last season You wrapped around me; a strong cocoon of bandages as I was undone and sewn back together.

Then You were clean sheets and just rest.

Now it's a wool blanket season.  You cover me head to toe.  Warm, weighted, secure.  All the peace and a constant itch.  I'm awake to every little thing that's not small to You.  Kind and steady, you're not letting up.  I get tired of it, a little desperate for it to end, while You point out  every interference between us. I kick and toss, but the blanket stays.  You're persistent.  Every impulse to run is met with a firm "stay here."

Something tells me if I really wanted to, I could kick this off.  You'd let me get dull and I'd get a break, and maybe some restless sleep.  You're not here to strong-arm me.  You'd back off.  But You know.  You know that's not what I want. I want the blanket, I want the itch, I want all of it.  I want what love has to give me.  I'll stay.