Gay church was canceled today. Winter weather. So I got to have home church this morning. I forgot to put away the remotes after yesterday’s video yoga but other than that it was as lovely as this light. Winter and I are best friends. Autumn and I may be lovers but Winter and I are soul sisters. She never pressures me. Her expectations are more gentle than the others. Her darkness is forgiveness. Her light is delivery.
And while it is true that I have to be more attentive to my skin in Winter, I get to be more attentive to my skin in Winter. Who doesn’t benefit from more skin on skin contact? She prompts. I respond. Winter sensuality disguised as maintenance. She’s sexy like that. It’s the only time of year I wish public baths were still a thing. Communal female veneration of skin. On Winter bodies, not Summer bodies. Tending. Mending. Superintending. I just know there would be singing.
Winter nights are so quiet I dream of grizzly bears meandering through high rise office buildings. Of breathy boys in doorways. And knuckles upon nipples. And the word somnolence. Or was it somnolent? In reference to desire. And I wake in the night to hear something sliding past my bedroom, below the window, in the dead-crisp canna lilies I laid down as mulch. Probably just the wind. Or a somnolent bear investigating all the heavy breathing.
My scriptures today from the Book of D:
Your desires are sacred.
Your pleasure empowers you.