New Moon

Every day adds another layer of snow. Whispy, light, powder, but persistent. Every day another layer. People pull their coats tighter, pull their lips tighter, pretend they never believed in spring to begin with, a Nordic cynicism draped around the bus stops, across the grocery store lines. Don't look anyone in the eyes or you will fall into the bottomless pit that is your neighbor's despair.

My dearest seem to abandon me. Perhaps I need them too much, perhaps my January ego turned them off; I spend so much time trying to be alone that it takes a while to see the abandonment. I writhe in shame over my shortcomings. Vow improvement. Vow that as soon as this damnation of winter passes, everything will be different. Snow plows pass like thunder outside the window. It is too hard just to breathe.

Plants sprout in the dark earth I so optimistically plotted weeks ago, when hope and sun shone alike. They do not care about vicious winter winds or despondent tears. They see the light even as buried deep in the soil. They feel the summer to come, though they've never known it before.

Today, equinox.

That is All.