The Cold Gray

I wake up to a patchwork gray sky
The chill of winter settling in the air.
A silent morning as the birds fly away
The world is still, drifting into a slumber.
Nature calls me to join her,
And the instinct of change rattles me.
Am I flying south to warmer skies
Or can I hide away in natures arms
Sleep peacefully until birds return?
But alas, I'm not meant for this life,
Not meant to hear nature's voice
Or answer her untimely calls;
So as the gray mangles in my sight
The clock ticks in the silent morn
And I am missing something,
Something the world expects me to do...