Winter's Fire

The golden fire of the morning sky
Belies the frigid December air
The cloud lie nestled in their soft pink glow
As the suns first rays fall everywhere
Through the gloved cotton cover of my palms
The steering wheel still feels like ice
Out in the cold, can't help but think
That my nice, warm bed would feel so nice
But obligation sends out its call
So out into the dawn I depart
Yet somehow, in this icy air
The morning's fire warms my heart