She roams from room to room
checks the thermostat
notches it up a degree or two.
With chores completed
and nothing more to do
a chill tends to set in.

It’s the dusk of the year,
waning light
the sun favoring the southern sky.
No bright windows to read by,
no outdoor radiance to warm her.

Her first winter alone
a new combatant: diving into depression, swimming in darkness, a paralysis of intent
or welcoming warrior: artistic exploration, snow-bound inspiration, the homey sustenance of soups and bread?

The choice — it’s hers to make.