Saving Daylight

I dreamed of a large airplane, even the windows were unusually wide and the heavens stretched out beyond us. His anger turned quickly to a sense of urgency, and I felt it rush through my skin's nerve endings and into my spine. Like something missing had been found, and I woke with the most delicious feeling in my stretching muscles, even as a massive hangover tumbled across the bed.

I stayed under the covers until late in the day, waiting for the blood to stop pounding my temples so terribly. By the time I got outside in the early afternoon, the air was mild, the sky had a certain glow. The promenade was full of people, and as I made my way back up from Battery Park, I realized what was different: the ice floes, that had been so tightly seared together with the frost along the piers, had all melted down, broken up and drifted off to sea. The tide was low, and there was a musty scent, of decay or of life it was hard to tell. Suddenly it seemed everything had a different light about it, the barren trees, the walls of snow, even the buildings had a hum about them that hasn't been there in many months. 

Later, as the sun began to set over Brooklyn and cover Smith Street in a peachy magic glow, I dared to believe it at last. Spring will return. Soon, you will breathe again.