this year so far is full of sneezes
and chocolate sorbet
and laundry unlaundered
and reading reading reading
through books not deep but oh-so-satisying,
like made for tv movies you think you won't watch a 2nd time,
books taking me to scotland and upstate new york and montreal
and everyone of them cold,
snowflakes falling from the pages as i turn them,
piling in drifts by the couch and the bed,
melting next to the heater here in my office.
even the kindle pages.
it is 5:30 and the darkness is almost here,
but not here yet,
and that not-here-yet makes me happy.
new year's eve saw me on the couch with lily
watching illegal fireworks bursting above the treetops north of us;
it saw me listening to the storefront church 2 doors down,
parishioners praying out the old year, singing in the new,
their jingle of tambourines unable to be contained by mere walls.
it saw me smiling as i drove away into the cold night.
i be here, i thought.
i be here now.