the last big snow
out on a limb,
s/he's moving keeping balance
my walk was short and very very cold
i could hardly see past the balaclava and my glasses frosted up
shadows were all kinds of indigo
new years eve and i sit home with a candle lit,
babysitting this old house as the thermometer creeps ever lower.
i am alone, not lonely, still missing the new place.
jude wrote about shelter, what porcupine seeks (between meals)
and what i must have or i would die (also between meals).
i have no quills to defend myself, or ability to climb agiley up, eating bark and buds
out on limbs that challenge balance,
and my language is a conversation with friends, not repelling enemies.
thank you for being along on the journey.