Waiting, Writing a Storm

The sky for days, open with this clear gray cold, an emotional cloak that slides down any gaping snap or sleeve, soft turn or tear, the skin exposed and vulnerable. It reminds me of the headlines that walk and ticker, write worry and wrinkled brow, like the sky unraveling, silver and wind.

I sit at the end of the day, my shoulders slow and sore, resting against the cool pale wall of my room, follow the narrow light along the snow, thin like chalk line, or patience. I reflect on the hate and clutter of the day, the months, the years, watch it pile as these winter storms, white thick and persistent. I sit and wait, with tongue completely still, while words and the world seem restless.


    1. I hope your weather isn’t as intense as ours… It’s been below zero for days and snowing constantly. It’s interesting, right before the weather is sure to break, winter reminds us, it’s not spring just yet.

      1. I must say that here the weather is much too kind this side. And I love it. No snow storms. It’s not quite spring yet and the birds are making a lot of noise about it. :)

      2. Ahh, the music – that sounds so nice. We are single digits below zero with no relief in sight until next week. But I am thankful for the seasons. Hope spring finds our parts of the world sometime soon. Enjoy the singing and earthy mild.

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