You were here before the houses were built.
Before the boats roared along the water,
before fishermen cast their lines out,
you swam along this river and called it home.
I envy your organization, your dedication,
your beauty and collected calm.
And I am sorry that we take so much from you,
so much for granted.
Morning daydreams chase the falling snow
in swirls of good intentions and solid ambitions–
with a sprinkling of old books, soft music and
cups of hot, honeyed tea, I settle down to
work with the pup at my feet.
Thoughts in winter stumble with
a stop-action rhythm
both jarring and comforting.
With hard edges and delicate skeletons,
they push to the forefront of consciousness;
greedy, needy and completely camouflaged
in the light of the cold January sky.