Driving home through the city, the sky grey, the streets grey, the dwindling snowbanks crusted in black, a lone man makes an impression on me.
at the bus stop
leaning against a pole …
the face of exhaustion
The streets dark. The air cold. I pull my jacket up. To cover my chin. To cover my nose. But I can’t. This jacket doesn’t stretch that far. I let go. No handlebars. Just motion. Free motion. I crane my neck. The cold hits my chin again.
seeing the future
in the stars
so bright tonight
The sky at dawn, purple-ish. The clouds at dawn, thin and white. Walking, I make connections. Connections to what? Connections to something. Something that maybe I have lived. Something that maybe I have not.
wine stains
on the tablecloth …
morning sky
Each day. Reminders of. A different season. Everything now. Clumped together. No consistency.
walking the dog …
how many scents
the wind has
Turning and sliding. Sliding and turning. Stopping and looking back. Waiting, then calling. Do you need help? Sidestepping back to where I started—up and up. Extending a hand. Then turning and sliding. Sliding and turning. Stopping and looking back … Beginners.
sharing tales
in the snow
chairlift
Severe weather warning in effect. The sounds outside, unnatural. Things clattering. Windows shrieking. Occasionally, a thud on the wall. So much to say. But how?
all drafts
no stories
windy night
Sitting in the warmth of my car, the fan on high, I hold my hands out, in front of the vents. I feel slightly older now, in this moment, on this day, thinking back, on the past thirteen months.
sliding into nothingness …
snowflakes on the windshield
As always, thank you for reading.
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