Winter Solstice arrives like a dream: crisp, sunny Wednesday morning with white puffs billowing out of the smokestacks. I take deep breaths and warm my cheeks against my crepe paper hands, the tide is high but not for long, for every take there is a give. Familiar faces run past on their morning runs, their dog walks, their river fishing, you revel in a community that asks nothing from you in the early hours, as you drink your coffee until it turns cold. Every day after this one will be longer, now.
In the little writing space on 14th street, you wriggle into a new corner, try this perspective on for size. The pattern on the tin ceiling distracts you, the angles of the roof, the constriction of a restricted vision. Forty years of living has taught you to accept the traits that sit deep within yo, so you do. Tomorrow you will return to the place that is yours.
Perhaps that's something to be said
for a lot of things.
No comments:
Post a Comment