
“Oh, it’s so beautiful!”
“No way, I’ve waited all this time, I’m getting in…”
“Santa, I know just how you feel.”
“It’s just magical…”

“Oh, it’s so beautiful!”
“No way, I’ve waited all this time, I’m getting in…”
“Santa, I know just how you feel.”
“It’s just magical…”

This morning i walked outside and saw two mourning doves in the trees. There was also an uncharacteristically quiet blue jay flying about. It was early, the mist was rising from the snow. The sky was a light grey that contrasted with the tree silhouettes; nearly brutal in its definition.
It is a new day, what shall we make of it?

changing through the seasons –
she now stands bare and exposed

a tiny worm–
in its grand wormness

it was as light as the future,
and as heavy as the past

a sprinkling of snow in the woods,
and of sugar in hot coffee
and of friendship on this late November day

the cold clung to everything,
except our beating hearts

when she looked away, it was through a landscape of past futures

we recognize the smell and the color
and the sharpness of time passing

that was the year i drowned