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what's done can't be changedclose the doors to your past now--life is the future
the driveway is clear--inside, stripped of my outer layerssweat lies cool on my back
blowing the snowwhile it's still below freezing --the powder flies
identifying marksin rural America:barn quilts
thai green curry soupreheated homemade samosas--comfortable
fasting labs todaythey said i can have black coffeei'll skip it anyway
all day Wednesdaybut barely an inch on the ground:snow drizzle
in the baseboardsradiator pipes crackle and pingwarming the winter
snowflakes blow sidewaysthen land and frost the ground--i eat a Pop-Tart®
small flakes swirlbefore landing and sticking to the groundpigeons roost on a wire
through my windowthe outside world is onlyshades of brown
hot oatmealwarm maple syrupcold blueberries
inside the red barnthe smell of hay and manurea horse's greeting
i hear a truckbut when i look i see onlya cloud of salt dust