By |

halting, cautious footsteps

off-trail preferable to icy pathways

the busy swish of nylon gaiters,

crunch of snow underfoot

deep breaths, a racing heartbeat

the brisk exhilaration

of a cold December afternoon

By |

I yo-yo the thermostat

too warm, too cool, too warm again —

the change, many years long past

so that’s not it! —

I think my indecisive body

simply cannot make up its mind

By |

barefoot across a late-night floor,

frigid air streams in, unopposed —

our front door fallen open —

winter letting itself inside

I shiver in the realization

there are those with so much less

than what we take for granted

By |

Coco peers out the sunroom window —

is he as blinded by the new-fallen snow as I am?

I wonder, do his dreams recall those puppy leaps

of uncontainable joy into that brisk vastness of white?

By |

first snow; I walk about twenty minutes

but quality over quantity; that’s what counts

eight inches of snow, with more still falling

there’s not much traffic on these unplowed streets;

the entire (lumpy, uneven) center — all to myself