peeling the lids from my eyes bright is more than expected
not yet daylight yet all the same a titanium glow
snow
I’ve waited the month out for the dark to turn
for the mind to awaken to the lightness of the hours
November now gone I wonder if I missed a queue a step a move that was mine
or if the answer is quite simple
there is more time to be had
I lean into the light as I step into slippers don the jacket wrap myself in what warmth there is to be found
the dog doesn’t bother lifting her nose to my steps she’s grown quite accustomed to the routine
daylight so far off more time for dreams to be mustered
I wonder without making it a story I tell myself I wonder if this is what it is
if this weight of light will be my way until the end
or if it purports the end nearer than I’d thought long ago when an end was still a vacuous otherness
I now own it’s closeness
so many would say I am young their age taking them decades beyond my own
relatives linger in ways I find appaling
yet how can I judge a life as I slip into my own ease
chair supporting my knees
words spill across the indigo lines and life
scribbles onto the horizon toward the lifting sun
snow
first of December
there is delight I can feel it’s shadowy mist wrap around my shoulders more memory than visitation
duty will have me let the dog run sweep the loose flakes from the walks so no one will fall
wonder will it help
will it lift the stone unknot the binding
begin the story from this renewing
I know the world is in on this with me
of course always I am not alone
breath until breath begins with me
and ends with me
there is this truth
some left behind to grieve
others sighing perhaps with resignation
the truth of a life isn’t always clear
to those who remain standing on the soil
we need to leave it at that
hours now melting
the asphalt still warm turns to slush
this renewal then
snow
more than the first shoots of spring flowers
or the fireworks of a new year
more than the kiss of an open doorway to a summer breeze or bird-song-collecting of grass and fluff
white
even as it goes grey
balling along curbs in muddy piles turning to frozen beneath midnight steps
it remains still
a call to see my world my life my long line of words along the page
renewed
who can I be now that I am here knees propped with blanket and warm mug
calling this the continuation not the culmination
of a life long lived for the battle cry of inspiration
feeling it now here bereft of will to share
is there peace and satisfaction enough to have lived
life returns to one’s own
in the palm of one hand
snow