Winter's last sigh

The floor of this old house
breathes foot-chilling cold
through its chipped linoleum
and pine planks,

like the earth expunging
the last winter air from its lungs,
awakening from five months' sleep.

My home,
-adobe flesh and wooden skeleton-
solid in place,
A wizened squatter covered
in clothes from many decades,

more connected with the life
in the soil than you might think;
the land's conduit

as the valley expels
the last chill of winter,
making room for Summer's warmth